


sujeito de sorte

by diurno



Series: pais e filhos [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged Up NCT Dream, Coming Out, Domestic Bliss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exes, Fatherhood, First Dates, Getting Back Together, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Fic, Lee Jeno-centric, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, don't worry i'm gay i know what i'm talking about, like.. Very slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22898365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diurno/pseuds/diurno
Summary: I guess so,Jeno mouths as he texts.Being closeted is just scary.Jaemin's answer comes a few seconds later.Yeah, but it sure as hell isn't lonely! Imagine how many people around the world are closeted right now. There could probably be an entire country worthy of people in the closet.Alternatively — a story about coming out and coming to terms.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Series: pais e filhos [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013535
Comments: 40
Kudos: 212





	sujeito de sorte

**Author's Note:**

> "if i were to describe sujeito de sorte in few words, i'd say: free serotonin and the realization that you can home to your own self. here's to the way everyone's moving forward, and no one is getting left behind." — ao3 user noturno, who also insisted on saying it was a "cultural reset".
> 
> [support and donate to the black lives matter movement right now!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WUJUAQs_vMDixJAWRMONwyvfdEcPvSFwX5_ExQhytDg/edit?usp=drivesdk)

_"For my father,_

_who is not evil._

_Well, maybe a little bit."_

_Cassandra Clare’s dedication in City of Ashes._

The neighborhood is quiet, calm, and gently dipped in washed away pastel tones, chosen by measure to seem peaceful, non-threatening. It’s quite a nice place in Seoul, despite its obvious seclusion from the rest of the city, performing just like Western suburbs would were they away from their original cities; Jeno surely sees the appeal. The sun rises in unforgiving brightness, towering over the nearly identical houses and their corresponding mowed lawns, a golden footprint left all over this part of the city. It looks and feels like a painting, carefully colored by trained hands, always a little bit out of reach, no matter from which angle you look from.

Jeno has learned to love it over the years. There are days when looking at the sunrise through their kitchen’s window brings a certain peace to his heart, a sense of warped belonging that feels like home nonetheless. Every morning is a checkpoint, a list of things to remember himself of as he gets ready to go on with his day.

First, he remembers himself that, no matter how dull and repetitive this neighborhood seems to be, it is a privilege and a relief that Jeno is able to afford it - not many people are, and in Seoul, it’s the best place you could raise children in. That’s an easy one; money is, gratefully, not the biggest one of Jeno’s concerns. Second, he remembers himself that, in terms of living, he’s in the best place he could’ve been. He has a stable, well paying office job, two healthy, understanding kids and a supportive wife, on top of being able to afford small luxuries, private healthcare and insurance for things that matter. These are just a few things he can take off his lists of troubles - as far as they’re concerned, Jeno is fine. Jeno is okay. Jeno is better than average. Jeno is lucky.

The third thing falls into more of a somewhat personal conflict, but it stands important nevertheless. He takes a few moments to breathe, answering the same questions he’s been asking himself ever since his first day at his job - _Who are you?_ Lee Jeno. _How old are you?_ I am thirty years old. I have two kids. I work at the economy subside of a big technology company. I am from Incheon. My annual income is around three thousand million won. I am fine.

Then again, faster, until his brain registers it: Lee Jeno. Thirty years old. Two kids. Big company. Incheon. Three thousand millions. I’m fine.

Lee Jeno. Two. Company. Incheon. Three thousand millions. Fine.

Until it’s as short as an answerless prayer, until it can fit in a song, until the words are so deformed in Jeno’s brain that they start to look and sound like shapeless blobs, completely absolved of meaning. That’s when he leaves his empty coffee mug in the sink and really starts to get ready for another day, every minute counted and organized for better and quicker labor.

That’s how life has been ever since he started to hit it big at work. A shower isn’t a shower - a shower is five minutes he could’ve used on an overnight shift, so his wife can sleep more peacefully at night when Mina is sick and the medication is expensive. Putting on his suit and shoes are another five minutes he could’ve used to develop a plea to his superiors so he could get an extra week of vacation, because Eric wants to go to the beach and Jeno doesn’t have the time to drive them all to Busan. That is the reality of labor; a lot of life gets flushed down the sink along with Jeno’s sleeping pills, because these don’t work anymore and Jeno doesn’t know when he or Heejin will have time to buy another ones.

The kids wake up a few minutes later, their footsteps against the kitchen floor making Jeno’s heart flutter with joy for the first time of the day, but certainly not the last. Heejin’s footsteps are lighter, more graceful; she’s used to tiptoeing around the house due to getting home from work late. Jeno hears hers too, synchronized with the children, and he almost flinches over the thought of not being able to stay upstairs for much longer, even if to just hear the faint sound of childish giggling and Heejin’s hushed whispers. Jeno finishes getting ready by tying his necktie in front of the mirror, jaw clenched and teeth gritted. _This is the anger of the self against its image_ , he remembers reading earlier this month in some leftover magazine while late at night at work. _The self will rebel against anything it doesn’t want. The self knows much more than the conscience lets on._

He leaves the bathroom with one last look at his features, formal shoes thumping against the wooden staircase, and Mina is the first person he sees, storming off the kitchen to watch Jeno do the most mundane of things. Her hair is so dark it barely reflects light, but there’s a charm to the way it’s so bluntly cut, right above her small shoulders. Her skin is much more tanned than her brother’s, and her eyes shine in expectation as Jeno crouches down to kiss her cheek good morning.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says, voice coming out hoarse. She doesn’t mind it - Mina is always the first person Jeno talks to in the morning. It makes his days brighter. “Excited for school today?”

“No,” she grins, her eyes turning into two gentle half moons, mirroring Jeno’s own features. She smells like warm cotton and baby soap, and when she wraps her arms around Jeno’s neck, he wants to stay held on to her for as long as it’s humanly possible. Her school shirt is neat and clean, fruit of Jeno’s late night laundry runs, and nothing seems ever as bad as it truly is. “But there’s no way around it, right?”

“No, miss, there isn’t.” Jeno shakes his head, nosing along her cheek for a second before letting her go. He stands tall once again, craning his neck to stare at her little form. “Go finish your breakfast, Mina. It’s almost time for me to drive you and your brother to school.”

She juts out her lips the tiniest bit, but complies nevertheless, moving right back into the kitchen as Jeno follows her closely from behind.

Their kitchen is considerably large - that was the main point of renting this house, anyways. Eric sits at the end of the long wooden table, his small frame being swallowed underneath, and Heejin sits by his right side, an untouched piece of toast resting on her plate. Her hair is pulled into a long ponytail, falling gently down her shoulders, and Jeno bets she looks just as tired as he does. Even then, Mina runs off to her happily, jumping on her lap as if there was no other place she’d rather be - she’s the happiest little girl, no matter where she is; Mina is way out of their league.

Eric is quieter, more prone to tantrums, but Jeno finds him to be of a different type of joy to raise. While Mina is loud and easily falls into trouble, Eric is often found playing quietly by himself, taking short breaks to cuddle onto Jeno or Heejin and fall asleep. He’s also chubbier, with round cheeks and thick arms, which makes him especially pleasant to hug to sleep; he’s a gentle kid, much like Jeno once was, and it makes his insides mushy when he thinks too much of it.

Heejin smiles - once at Mina, once at Jeno. The bags under her eyes seem much darker today, but Jeno knows she’s getting some rest once they all leave. Their schedules aren’t all that compatible, as Jeno works from nine to six and Heejin works purely night shifts at the hospital, but they make it work either way. When Jeno passes by her, she hands him her uneaten toast, and he eats it despite its staleness. That is one of the few shades of tender they still share. Heejin doesn’t need to talk to make Jeno understand her, and they work in perfect synchronization around their schedule, always meeting the other where they end.

Soon enough they’re out of the house, Mina and Eric secured on the backseat as Jeno pulls off with his car, their neighborhood fading behind them as they enter the heart of Seoul. The drive is peaceful, a faint pop song playing in the radio as their usual ten minute trip to their school is surely getting completed, the traffic quite kind on Jeno for this time in the morning.

He’s about to drop them off at school when Mina sneezes. Clutching her nose with tiny hands, she calls: “Dad!”

“Huh?” Jeno turns around, seeing as she struggles to contain the snot running from her nose. It’s gross, but having raised them for six years has given Jeno immunity to such feelings, so he quickly opens his car’s glove compartment, taking out a roll of toilet paper and a few other things that came along. He hands her a piece of paper, then puts the roll back in. What’s left in his hands are receipts, letters from the bank and a few old pictures. Uninterested, Jeno goes through them to see if it’s anything important enough to not be thrown onto the trash. The receipts and letters are okay to go, but the crumpled pictures call for Jeno’s attention.

The first one is a picture of him in college, taken by a disposable camera. He’s posing with a football team shirt on, bottle of beer hanging from his hand, and the person holding the camera is giving him a thumbs up, as if in approval for his alcohol consumption. The background is just Jeno’s old dormitory, messy and stuffed with clothes all around the floor.

The second one makes the first one a clearer moment in his head - it’s him, probably only a few minutes after, with his head leaning on the photographer’s thigh, the picture taken from upside down. Jeno’s eyes are barely seen as his smile is twice the size of Jupiter, and the photographer’s hand gently falls over Jeno’s shoulder.

The third one is Jeno and his roommate, Jaemin, sitting on a bed while only in pajamas, their heads leaning together as they look over a magazine. They’re so close one could think this picture means something else, and - as far as Jeno knows, there was no reason to be so close. Jaemin’s hand rests on Jeno’s uncovered thigh, and there’s a small smile gracing their lips, like they knew something no one else did. It’s so unusual of Jeno to smile like that, even then, it makes him frown in wonder.

Mina brings him back to reality by repeatedly calling his name, reminding him they should be inside the school already. Jeno unhands them from the seatbelt, quickly grabbing both of their hands and leaving them to the care of their teacher, giving her a quick nod before going back into his car.

The pictures sit on the passenger seat, carelessly thrown around. For some reason, Jeno tenses up at the thought of someone seeing them, protectively pulling them to his chest as he stays parked in front of his kids’ school. He inspects the back to see if there’s anything written on it, and surely enough he finds it - pretty handwriting in blue ink that says “ _I’ll miss you, cutie!_ ”. Something about it feels extremely shameful, but Jeno can’t imagine what they were up to back in college, simply because that time of his life felt like a complete blank. Jeno drank too much, partied too much and, apparently, was much too close to Jaemin. He gently puts them back in the glove compartment, staring at it for a bit too long before pulling off again, this time on his way to work. Traffic isn’t as forgiving as it was earlier, and it leaves Jeno to once again stare off into distance, lost in thoughts.

How was Jaemin back in college, anyways? The more Jeno looks into it, the less hazy the memory is. Jaemin was very flirty, to both boys and girls, and he owned at least ten pairs of black jeans. Even now, he still seems like a sunlit dream, unreachable in every form - Jaemin was the type of person you never knew that existed. Jeno can’t believe he forgot about him so easily after they fell apart, but maybe there is some type of sense into it. As far as he can remember, something about Jaemin has always made him uncomfortable, or perhaps just fidgety. He was always too direct, too straight to the point, too… Forward.

Traffic moves a little bit, and he’s pulled apart from his thoughts, but not for too long. That last picture - it does feel like they knew something no one else did. Jeno tries not to give it that much thought, but it’s nearly impossible when he’s sure he never looked that happy in any other moment of his life. Even if he was high, Jeno has never seen himself so loosened up, so gleeful and welcoming. It feels like the Jeno from the picture and the Jeno from now are two very different people, and Jaemin is the bridge to get back to him, but his image is much too hazy to go back to now.

Jeno tries to imagine himself as his 20 year old self, an entire decade ago. He imagines this is not his car, no, and he’s not heading to work - he’s heading to the beach for summer break, and Jaemin is right by his side, on the passenger seat. Almost automatically, Jeno turns his head to stare at his empty passenger seat, forcing his mind to materialize the same Jaemin from the pictures. He’s young, tanned, hair an entrancing shade of untouched black, and he’s smiling at Jeno, a little bit too flirty, almost as if he wanted to say something; almost as if there was a little bit more to their relationship that Jaemin let on.

The idea makes his toes curl, something at the base of his stomach shifting in expectation, perhaps even adrenaline. If Jeno tries hard enough, it’s like he can see Jaemin leaning his arm against the open window, the sun tracing his face, his hair blowing against the wind. His cheeks heat up in shame, and Jeno immediately turns his eyes back on the road, trying to inhale the air that just left his lungs in such a hurry. His toes curl once again, and suddenly his suit is a little bit too hot for him, so Jeno takes it as a chance to take it off and sit only in his dress shirt, squinting his eyes to see if traffic has cleared up even if just a little. It hasn’t, but it doesn’t seem as much of a problem anymore; not when Jeno felt such a rush just from imagining himself to be back in college, for just a moment.

Part of him wants to wonder how Jaemin is now - if he’s just like Jeno, working an office job and coming back to a wife and kids, but something tells him Jaemin is not the type of guy that comes home to a wife. It’s… Refreshing, to imagine a man coming home to another, and Jeno feels a bit more at ease with that thought. Despite everything, there’s still something progressive about him; something that makes his life a little less standardized and traditional. It must be nice, then, to lead that kind of life, to not be traditional in any meaning of the word.

Time flies fast with imagination, and soon Jeno is at work, ready to spend eight hours working with the image of Jaemin by his side. The day passes by as slowly as it usually does, but now Jeno has something to fill up the thinking gaps, and by the end of his work journey he already has a somewhat certain image of how college went for him, and how close with Jaemin he really was.

They weren't supposed to be roommates at first, but Jaemin's roommate had dropped out and Jeno was accepted later on because of troubles with his student ID. They were very, very close - to the point Jeno remembers waking up in Jaemin's bed instead of his own, and having drunken memories of Jaemin's hands pressed to a shirtless Jeno's shoulders. These are only a few of the memories he managed to dig from the ground, the ones Jeno hasn't fully let go of yet. If he reaches out inside of himself for memories, it’s inevitable that he’ll bump into Jaemin, but that comes as a surprise as well - for years, Jeno hadn’t thought about him. Almost as if there was a block, something Jeno had forced himself to forget, a certain part of his history that hasn’t been talked about before. He’s still thinking about it while driving home, hands gently attached to the wheel. The kids are already home by now, courtesy of Heejin’s flexible day schedule, and it leaves him a little bit more at peace to know he’s coming home to a house full. Some of his coworkers don’t have the same privilege, that’s for sure; Jeno is better than average. He’s fine. He’s lucky.

Mina is watching a rerun of Finding Nemo as Jeno steps into the house, her blanket fisted between her two hands, eyes almost closing. She looks peaceful, sleepy, and Jeno knows she’s going to be out like a light in a few minutes. Eric is by the center table, coloring book displayed in front of him as he leans his cheek onto his arm, his whole face squished against it. His hand moves the coloring pencil weakly, barely doing any movement, and it’s not usual for them to be so tired at seven. Heejin comes out of the staircase, her hair pulled up in a tight ponytail and her cheeks smudged with what seems like dirt, giving away that they probably had an afternoon at the park after school.

The thing about Heejin is that she’s a great mother. She genuinely adores their presence, just as much as Jeno does, and it ends with both of them being completely crazy about their kids. Somehow, that seems like enough to make up for the clear lack of romance between then - even if Jeno doesn’t love her like that, even if they’re just friends at the end of the day, it’s not like a divorce would make anything better. Heejin is too great of a person and too caring of a mother, and there doesn’t seem to be a reason to break that apart for something as trivial as romantic love, as uncertain as that is. This is where Jeno is supposed to be and this is the life he was meant to live, so it’s not that big of a deal.

“Tough day?” she asks, putting down the basket of clean laundry at the center table Eric is drawing on.

Jeno shrugs, taking off his suit and hanging it near the front door. He takes off his shoes and loosens up his tie, moving to sit right beside Mina, her small head coming to rest on his shoulder. “Not tough, just tiring. I can cook.”

She sighs in relief, sitting down on Mina’s other side. “Thank you. I have to clock in sooner today. There’s a new virus spreading and they want us to be on the tip of our toes for the rest of the month.”

“Yeah, I’ve checked the news earlier today,” Jeno mindlessly answers, his eyes resting on the TV. They’ve watched Finding Nemo quite a lot of times now, because Mina is a consistent kid if anything. Jeno can tell all the lines by heart, but he doesn’t mind rewatching it once more tonight. “Are you sure it’s safe for the kids?”

Heejin hums. “Yeah, they’re making us wear masks and all. And we eat well and are healthy, too, so it’s less likely that I’ll get sick.”

Because of her job, Heejin is always in contact with sickness, and not everyone can afford to eat as well as they do to keep their bodies healthy. That’s something Jeno is privileged about, too; the reason they both run themselves raggedy to work as much as they can. It’s all for the kids, truly - Jeno wouldn’t mind getting sick, but at their age, it’s crucial to keep them healthy and away from common diseases.

“That’s good.” He wraps an arm around Mina, squeezing her a little closer. She’s practically half awake, cuddling closer and mumbling incoherent words, her hands dropping the blanket as she starts to grab Jeno’s work shirt instead. He probably shouldn't let her do that, since he’ll have to iron this shirt again tomorrow morning, but Jeno doesn’t care enough to tell her to stop. “What about these kids, hm? Why are they so sleepy?” his voice changes immediately, poking Mina’s arm with his finger as she continues to mumble.

“I tried to teach them how to ride a bike today,” Heejin says, leaning forward to run her hand through Eric’s hair. “They’re tired from all the trying.” Eric yawns, eyes finally closing, and Heejin and Jeno share a look. They’re too heavy for Heejin to carry them nowadays, so it’s Jeno’s job to do it, gently parting away from Mina to gather Eric in his arms and take him upstairs.

They both have their own separate rooms, but lately it’s been common for them to fall asleep either with Jeno or Heejin on their beds. Their shared couple room hasn’t been put to use in a long time, mainly because they both prefer being with their kids at night, and Eric is particularly prone to Jeno’s insomniac habits. As Jeno enters his room, he gingerly puts him down on his bed, tucking him in under his blankets. He’ll probably last until the next morning, but Mina will probably wake up in the middle of the night, and Jeno has no idea of what he’s going to do by then.

He hears Heejin’s footsteps from behind him, and watches as she still carries Mina in her arms despite the struggle that it is now that they’re six. Her little mouth is open and drooling, but that’s not something neither of them care about as Jeno picks her up from Heejin’s arms and cradles her to his chest, moving to her own bedroom and tucking her in just the same as he did with her brother. When he’s back on the hallway, Heejin is just leaning on her doorway, eyes lost.

“She’s not going to last the whole night,” she says, and Jeno hums.

“I’m watching Mulan with her if she wakes up. You know how Mulan gets her sleepy,” he whispers, doing his best to not wake them up.

Heejin looks at him for a second, her eyes melting at the edges to something softer than they usually are. Like Eric, her eyes are doe and pitch black, gently curling around her features to the likes of a rabbit - Jeno can just remember how she looked back when they met. Her arms are crossed.

“Thank you, Jeno,” escapes her mouth, ever so kindly. She looks like a Victorian ghost under the hallway’s blacked out lights, pale skin reflecting the moonlight coming from the window. They share a type of tiredness, a type of sadness, that spells so habitual in their life that it’s hard to tell it apart from love.

“I’m their dad,” he answers, staring blankly back at her. “It’s my job.”

“I know.” Heejin uncrosses her arm, avoiding his eyes. “Still, thank you.”

Jeno smiles at her, but it’s more of a flinch if he’s to be honest. There’s a deep awkwardness between them that never really goes away, even in moments like these. He doesn’t know what to do except for reaching out to pat her in the shoulder, a little too uncertain in himself but managing to keep it up anyways. Heejin chuckles, shaking her head, and they both go on with their respective business; two strangers sharing the same house and coexisting with each other.

By the time she’s leaving for work, Jeno is standing on the kitchen, boiling rice as the TV chirps in some of the night news. He’s gotten pretty good at cooking ever since they had kids, but it’s not always that he has the time to make himself dinner like this. Still, it’s one of the small joys of being home alone - the peace of being able to do whatever, the way he’d like to.

“I’m leaving!” she announces, grabbing her purse and checking it for last minute emergencies.

“Have a good shift,” Jeno tells her, leaning into the counter. “Hey, Heejin?” he calls.

Heejin walks into the kitchen, round eyes questioning as she grabs an apple and shoves it on her purse, for when she has her break. “Yes?”

“Do you know where those pictures from college are? You know, the box with a bunch of polaroids and stuff?” he asks, dragging his feet against the kitchen floor in a way he’s sure that is unlike him.

Heejin frowns, letting her hands fall to her hips. “I think, maybe, it’s on top of the closet in our room. If you don’t find it there then it’s probably on one of the kitchen cabinets.”

“Okay,” Jeno nods, grabbing a piece of cucumber to chop. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, then leaves without sparing Jeno a second glance. The last thing he hears is the sound of the car startling at the garage, and then she’s gone.

This house is all but a corpse when it’s empty. Even now, its majestosity makes Jeno wonder how could he even afford to live in such a place, but it doesn’t come from joy; rather, it comes from a place of doubt, from asking himself when things will start to burn and crash. College Jeno didn’t think about those things, he supposes - he was too busy getting drunk and falling asleep in someone else’s bed, not a single drop of worry for the future. He was different, childish, perhaps a bit too hot headed and driven by lust.

Nostalgia can’t help him now, though, and the entire place feels a little bit more like a prison than it feels like a home. The windows are wide open for the night to come in and make itself a guest, gentle wind rushing through the room, and it helps, somehow - despite everything, Jeno knows how to cope with this claustrophobia, this fear, this feeling that he’s a deer stuck in headlights. He eats alone in front of the TV, and washes his dishes while humming to a song from the radio, his chest slippery wet and ever so blue, sunken to the ocean.

Sometimes Jeno thinks about disappearing. That’s a thing about parenthood people don’t talk about, but you want to disappear much more than you’d expect to. Creating a life and molding it is the most consuming task of them all, and it’s also irreversible - there’s nothing Jeno could do to go back to his old life, not when Mina and Eric need him so desperately. These thoughts only come up in moments of detachment, when Jeno dissociates from real life so bad he has to remind himself of who he is constantly, but they’re still there; no matter how much Jeno wishes they weren’t, they are, and there’s no force in the Universe capable of making him feel any less bad about them.

But it does feel so easy. To just grab the car and drive to the nearest small city, empty his bank account and burn his credit card, tell his boss to go fuck himself while he’s at it. It feels much too tempting sometimes, and when the urge to run hits him this hard all Jeno can do is take a long walk, trying to avoid the points of the neighborhood that lead him to the exit. He could and would never leave Mina and Eric behind, but God knows that there’s not a lot more to hold on to in this life - not much he’d take with him to his casket.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? Not when Jeno still has to go back home and get to bed, not when Jeno has work tomorrow. It’s as bad as it seems to be, but it’s enough to make him stop dead in his tracks, making his way back to his front porch and entering the house once again. Maybe one day he’ll be able to leave this place behind, once his children are old enough to not need him, once he’s finally willing to let go, but that day is hardly today. There is hope for Jeno yet, but it is far too hard to reach it when there’s so much happening in between them.

He makes his way upstairs, checking where Heejin told him the box with the pictures would be. It’s a cardboard box painted in blue, a small ribbon tied around it; the only thing Jeno took with him from his parents’ house before he moved out. It was empty then, but it got filled with pictures as the years went by, most of them being of Jeno in college and the process of Eric and Mina growing up. It works as a happy place for Jeno, mostly, but it’s been quite a while since he got to touch it - as far as he knew, all of the baby pictures had been uploaded to their phones, and so there was no reason to have them in paper anymore. One might say it’s quite old-fashioned.

Yet, the pictures from college aren’t uploaded anywhere, much less are hanging on a cloud file somewhere in the internet. No, these are only here physically, and only Jeno has them. He’s the only person in the world to hold these pictures in his hands, and they somehow seem to be much more precious as he realizes how fragile they are. If this place were ever to burn down, Jeno would lose them forever - all of the memories from college, from Jaemin, from a time when he was younger and reveled without a care. That in itself is scary.

He roams through a ridiculous amount of pictures to find his college ones, sitting at the very end of the pile. Jeno’s fingers tingle as he manages to grab a small pile of its own, bringing them to his bed and going in for more. There are too many, so he does what he can with the ones he can get easily, gingerly looking at each one of them and separating them in different piles.

One is for pictures of Jeno. There are quite a few of those, because whoever took them seemed to really enjoy taking pictures of him, especially when he was laughing or smiling. He saves those to see last, because the idea of seeing a past him being so happy still makes him a little bit wary of what he might do, so they sit behind his back. The second pile is for pictures of random things, such as shoes, bottles of beer, tests with big scores on them, and the eventual sack of condoms discharged right over Jeno’s bed. The third one is pictures of Jaemin. Not just him, but him and Jeno, him and other friends he can’t recognize, him slouched over homework at the ground. These pictures seem to be in Jeno’s point of view, and they somehow make him a bit bashful, if he’s honest.

The first picture of is just Jaemin lying lazily on his stomach in bed, wearing basketball shorts and a shirt that riled up enough to make his lower back visible. His hair is dark black and a little bit longer than in the other pictures, as he turns his head around to smile at Jeno, who presumably took the photograph. He can vaguely recall the moment, probably around when they first met, and Jaemin looks… Happy. His eyes shine even through the camera, and he seems delighted to be in Jeno’s company, something Jeno can’t remember how it feels like in the first place.

The second one is the both of them sharing a bar stool, Jeno’s hair freshly cut and so short he looks like he’s been to the military. Jaemin’s is still long in this one, and he’s leaning his chin on Jeno’s shoulder, beer up and smile as unrelenting as ever. Though this smile is different than the others, his lashes curving prettily around his eyes as he raises an eyebrow to the photographer, flirty. That’s more how Jeno remembers him.

The third one is when it starts to get questionable. It’s a picture of Jaemin, shirtless, and the person who took it seems to be straddling his hips, Jaemin’s eyes looking too tender to deny the intimacy of this situation. Jeno’s cheeks burns instantly, wondering why does he have this in the first place. The boy’s locks frame his face, stripes of sun rays across his features as if taken directly beside a window, and he looks too golden to be true. His face is angular and defined, like a man’s should be, and there’s something charming about his eyebrows being this dark and bushy. Jeno feels as if he could just put his hand through this picture and end up on the other side of it, reaching for Jaemin and dragging a finger across his face.

All of the other photographs seem to be of the same sort: unbelievably intimate, and with no sight of who took them. There’s all kinds of these - Jaemin in underwear, Jaemin reading in bed, Jaemin stretching on the ground, Jaemin looking absolutely hammered, Jaemin holding someone’s hand. They look so very real and recent it’s scary, like Jeno just found them published in a random person’s Instagram account. But that’s not possible - they didn’t have Instagram back then, and no one else in the world has these pictures. Why? Why Jeno, out of all these people, has it?

He’s not sure he likes the answer to that question once he gets it. Buried between the other pictures, there’s one - just one - where both Jeno and Jaemin are shown. They’re in front of a mirror, and Jaemin’s arms are thrown around Jeno’s neck carelessly, a laugh sweet on the tip of his tongue. Jeno is smiling too, and much to his surprise, holding a camera directly pointed to the mirror. His other hand that’s not holding the camera is sitting comfortably on Jaemin’s hip, looking every bit like it belong there.

Flat out, it looks like a… Couple picture. And the panic that rises into Jeno’s heart is almost enough to make him throw all of these photographs back into the box and close it forevermore. It’s insane - it’s insane that this has been sitting here for all these years, out in the open for anyone to see. Jesus, _Heejin_ might have seen it. His kids could have been roaming through these pictures, years from now, and finding this very own image. It fills Jeno up with such an overwhelming fear, that he quickly grabs the picture and folds it to his pocket, hands shaking. What if someone has seen it? What if Heejin has seen it?

He quickly places all pictures but one inside the box, hiding it under the bed and locking himself in the bathroom. Jeno takes the picture out of his pocket, unfolding it breathlessly. It’s undeniably a couple shot, and he’s - How could Jeno simply forget about this? How could he, for all these years, black out from his mind that he had a… Thing with his college roommate? That they did so many things together, that Jeno took so many pictures of him, that Jaemin took so many pictures of Jeno?

That doesn’t sound like Jeno. And as much as it doesn’t, the proof is in these pictures, no ambiguity in sight. His hands fail him as he places the piece of paper on the sink, pressing it against the cold marmorie. In it, Jeno looks so, so happy. His face is thrown back, a big roaring laugh escaping his lips, cheeks full and healthy and no eyebags in sight. Jaemin looks happy too, his temple leaning on Jeno’s shoulder charmingly, his eyelashes longer than anyone else’s. It’s a type of joy Jeno hasn’t seen bloom in his face for a long time now, his hand gripping Jaemin's hip like the skin would miss it if they were apart for too long.

Jeno’s cheeks burn in embarrassment, heart banging against his chest like a guitar amplifier. The back of his throat is completely dry, time and space melting into each other, psychedelic in ways Jeno could only feel before when high. He is so nervous, and so shamefully pleased by the picture, it’s hard to do anything but blink at it, hoping by God it will never be found by anyone else.

He snaps out of it, backing away from the sink until his back touches the bathroom door, a little bit of sweat dripping under his work shirt. The picture stands motionless, but it is barely just a piece of paper now. In it, there’s the dangerous proof that Jeno, contrary to what he had thought, _has_ been touched by immeasurable happiness before, he just didn't allow himself to remember it - or him - out of shame. And even right now, the satisfaction that floods him just by seeing these pictures, by knowing they were taken by him, by knowing Jaemin, in all of his flirtiness and grandiosity, shared these moments with someone like Jeno, is enough to bring him to his knees, to make his gut tremble and his stomach turn. This emotional motion sickness, this shaking from his feet to the top of his head, remember Jeno once again that wanting, especially like this, is the most rotten work of them all. The way his toes curl in unrestrained satisfaction disgusts Jeno as much as it frightens him, excites him, turns him on.

He slowly approaches the picture again, hesitant like Jaemin might jump out of it at any second, and holds it to the mirror’s height. Jeno tries not to stare too much at Jaemin in it, focusing on himself more, and then averting his eyes to the mirror. Jeno still has the same hair, that’s for sure, but he’s gotten impossibly skinnier since then. His eyes, too, are still the same when he smiles; but the smile he gives to the mirror looks somewhat closer to a flinch, and Jeno can’t blame himself for it. He looks the same from a decade ago, but very, very tired, like a lingering shadow that still manages to flicker into reality sometimes.

Then, and much to his regret, he lets his eyes rest on Jaemin. Even now, Jeno can see exactly what his twenty year old self saw in him. Jaemin is… Vibrant. All of the memories of him, all of the pictures, everything - Jeno is amazed by him. He makes him want to smile and weep at once, makes him want to know more, makes Jeno regret ever repressing all of these histories he’ll probably never allow himself to get back. The roaring in his heart eases out as Jeno focuses his eyes on Jaemin’s smiling lips; it’s an honor to have him as a past lover. Even if no one else will find out about it, even if Jeno will deny it if someone ever asks about them, it is an honor to have been such a part of his life. Reflecting more carefully about the situation, Jeno doesn’t regret it. He’s just ashamed at the amount of wanting he showed him, for free - for the sake of love and love only.

Jeno blinks, and lets his eyes rest on the mirror again. Without his permission, he starts to imagine how this picture would look like if it was retaken, now. How Jaemin would be in this bathroom, right now, throwing his arms around Jeno’s neck and batting his eyelashes to the camera. It wouldn’t be a camera, he supposes - it would be a cellphone, and Jeno would be able to keep that picture forever if he were to take it, and he’d stare at it every now and then, thinking about how Jaemin is really something else.

He imagines it in such detail it’s like Jaemin is really here. If Jeno forces his mind hard enough, he could feel the warmth coming from his hip, the quiet laughter in his voice, the soft press of his hair against his chin. It’s so real he has to step back a little, blinking insanely, his heart speed picking up once again but this time in a more pleasant way. He tries to imagine what Jaemin would do after the picture is snapped, and the burning on his cheeks remember him that that is not such a thing to imagine if you’re a heterosexual men, not only married but with two children to take care of.

Still - for just a little bit. For a few seconds. For maybe a minute, he allows himself to imagine, and the thought makes his knees weak enough he has to fold the picture right back into his pocket and avert his eyes from the mirror. Jeno turns around, unlocking the door, and his hand immediately grips the picture inside his pocket protectively, but there’s no one here to hide from. If anything, the silence and the emptiness of his room make him realize that this is the first time in a while his heart has sped up like that, his cheeks burned like that, his hand almost gave in like that. To make a very long story short, this is the first time in years Jeno has felt this alive.

He licks his own lips, biting on a piece of dry skin, and gulps down saliva. This is okay. This is something he can do when he’s alone, and he’s bored, and that’s where it’ll stay. It’s fine. If he only thinks about it alone at night, then it doesn’t have to mean anything - then it doesn’t make Jeno anything.

When he goes to sleep, his mind races much quicker than his body. Jeno tosses and turns in bed, knowing that he’ll be awake for much long, eyes staring up at the ceiling and heart fast on its feet. Is this _really_ okay? And even if it is, what’s the point of it? Jaemin is far away from his life, and thinking about him, dreaming about him, imagining him won’t bring him any closer - not that Jeno _wants_ him to be closer, it’s just that that’s what he imagines people would do if they… Had something for someone else. Jeno is far too scared to even address it, or to put a name to it, because then it would mean it’s real, and that’s not something he can cope with, no. Jeno is not that strong mentally, not that strong physically, to think about those things at this time in his life.

And not at his age, too - he is far too old and busy to be thinking about those things. He has two children to take care of, a job to do, and that should be enough to keep his mind at bay. Jeno turns around in bed, giving his back to the room, and forces himself to fall asleep, blanket fisted between his hands and jaw tense. He does sleep for a few hours, but that doesn’t mean Jaemin is kept away from his mind - not when Jeno wakes up sweating from a dream where his old college roommate is hovering over him, trying to take his shirt off as Jeno laughs and tells him no, even though his smile gives all the permission needed.

And if he rolls in bed, grabs his phone and searches for an “Am I gay?” test on google, that is no one else’s business but strictly his.

The thing about Jeno and, by extension, Jaemin, is that even when he’s supposed to forget something, even when he does everything within his reach to make sure his brain is busy enough to not spiral, he is still held hostage by his indulgence, the one that tells Jeno, to his face, that he is not strong enough to abstain from certain pleasures just because they are shameful. That’s nothing new to him; as far as Jeno can remember, his life has always been marked by guilty pleasures, whether he made an attempt at hiding them or not.

He started drinking around fifteen, back when it was as easy to get drinks as a minor as it was to buy candy. Jeno hasn’t struggled with addiction in that sense, but it’s known to him that he went overboard with drinking a lot more times than just one, especially during stressful or dull times; when Jeno used to be the last one standing at parties. Drugs started in college, along with his newly found… Thing with Jaemin, and Jeno didn’t overuse enough for it to be a problem either. It was mostly behind empty buildings, on the lookout for bypassing cops, and Jeno never once lied about it - well, except to his parents.

Then he graduated college, and as much as he wouldn’t like to say so, sex quickly became one of the easy ways out of his internal turmoil at the time. The more Jeno remembers about college, the more what came after it made sense - his early and mid twenties were the time he most had unfulfilling heterosexual sex during his entire lifetime, simply because he wanted to convince himself that, despite what he had with Jaemin, he was still straight. Very much straight. To the point of awkward one night stands and pregnancy scares that kept him up at night for days on a row.

And then… Heejin. Their current situation does not describe what they once were, but Jeno probably could’ve told back then they’d end up like this. They went too fast, starting from slipping up and marrying in the cause of an unwanted pregnancy, both too scared to tell their parents that it wasn’t, in fact, planned and that they weren’t actually in love. Heejin wasn’t an addiction; she was one of the few things Jeno enjoyed moderately, because she herself wasn’t that into him in the first place. Their relationship had no strings attached, which makes their present far too funny if you ignore the sad part of it - Jeno went overboard with that too.

Work isn’t a pleasure, but it serves as escapism. When Heejin first suggested that they had an open marriage, Jeno denied it to the max, saying he’d rather focus on raising the kids and getting a promotion at work. Now that Jeno is already pretty high on his workplace hierarchy, there’s a vague feeling of unhappiness that is still around everything he does, even if he has an office of his own with a good enough view and a nineteen years old assistant that gets him coffee whenever Jeno asks her to. These are all things Jeno allowed himself to go through with even if he knew they weren’t the best options, and as he blinks around the pressure of sleepiness, it is concrete that he is, too, going to go overboard with Jaemin.

It’s impossible not to, especially when he is too much in everything he does. Jeno walks into his office and swears he sees 20 year old Jaemin walking along with the new interns, Jeno almost bumps into another car at the parking lot while imagining Jaemin on the passenger seat, Jeno chokes on iced coffee when he thinks he hears someone say the name Jaemin downstairs even when Heejin is at work and the kids are in bed. The proof is in of all these little things he pretends he does not do, and in shameful nights locked inside his bathroom, pictures from nearly a decade ago on his shaky hands.

That is not very straight of him, that much he knows, but it’s not like people can read his mind. The realer the daydreams get, the most Jeno does to hide them, because he is far too old and far too busy to have such adolescent fantasies about someone he hasn’t seen in years. Everyone seems to walk around clueless to the things in his mind, and that’s what comforts him, even if the daydreaming gets more and more physical as time passes by. No one knows he’s thinking about how he used to make out with Jaemin in college when he’s pouring wine for other suburban dads in a welcome to the neighborhood party, while Heejin pretends to like that the other moms are taking rounds of touching her hair and saying she looks like she hasn’t aged a day after 23. No one knows he’s seeing Jaemin splayed out on his little desk table as he sits through yet another 3 hour meeting, and surely no one knows of Jeno’s late night pants-in-ankles situations. No one needs to.

Jeno is the only person who knows, and the secretiveness has stopped being shameful quite a few time ago, instead turning into something he doesn’t like to think about when he's alone. It’s exciting to hold such a secret, to have all these pictures stuffed into his work desk drawer, even if there’s nowhere in his traditional family house he could keep a secret in. That’s the good side of it, he supposes - it makes Jeno a little bit more than what he used to be, and it brings him closer to his own flesh, to the fact he’s human and can still want, perhaps even yearn for things.

He’s still buying baby carrots, and his kids are still eating them, which is a good sign. Heejin has been taking longer shifts at the hospital due to a new virus, so Jeno has a whole lot of time alone with Mina and Eric, which is nice; just yesterday he taught them about Monopoly, and there have been about ten rounds of it between the period of last night and this evening. Mina asks for Jeno to do her hair for school now, as well, and he’s getting better at it. All in all, life hasn’t changed much ever since he discovered he feels somewhat of an attraction to men. Everyone treats him the same, and Jeno knows it’s mostly because he hasn’t told anyone, but that means he’s good at hiding it, which is a relief.

It’s around nine p.m when Heejin starts getting ready for her shift, different from her usual eleven p.m clock in. She’s struggling to put her coat on when Jeno swiftly holds the fabric for her, watching as her tiny frame eases itself into the sleeves. Heejin glances at him with a quick smile, mumbling her thank you as she moves to the kitchen to get her break snack. She’s back in a second, smile still not leaving her face.

“You’ve done groceries.” She bags the package of koala cookies inside her purse, her eyes averting to Jeno’s laid down figure on the couch.

“Yeah, I figured it’d be better if I did. I know the hospital has been insane lately.” Jeno shrugs, adjusting his glasses. The TV is blurting out some sitcom he doesn’t really care about, but it’s better than sitting alone with his thoughts, considering that every moment his mind is distracted it flies right back to Jaemin.

“Thank you,” Heejin says, nodding gently to tell him he did good. She’s about to get her keys from the bowl next to the door when she turns around, glancing at Jeno. “You’ve been happier lately.”

At that, Jeno shrugs again. She continues: “Have you met someone?”

The question makes Jeno’s heart speed up, his head shooting right up to stare at her frame beside the door. His cheeks burn crimson red, and he avoids her eyes just as easily. “You’re my wife, Heejin. You can’t ask that.”

“I don’t mind it.” This is her time to shrug, looking every bit as nonchalant as she sounds. “Whatever makes you happy. You work with a lot of pretty women, it’s not possible that you don’t think anything of any.” Jeno’s breath falters, and he looks down to his lap, shame flooding him in violent waves. That is true - he does work with a lot of good looking women, but Jeno has never looked at any of them like that. No one, really; he’s never looked at anyone like that until he found those pictures of Jaemin.

“I haven’t met anyone and I’m not seeing anyone, Heejin. I’m too busy,” he half lies, turning his head back to the TV. He can hear Heejin snicker behind his back, but he’s too scared to look at her and have his bashfulness noted. “You should hurry, you’re going to get to work late.”

“Yeah, I should,” she says, a little laugh on her voice. “Goodbye now. Call me if you or the kids need anything.”

“I will,” he answers as she walks out, her hair down for the first time in weeks today.

Heejin is a friend inside this house. Jeno sees her as that - a friend, an ally, his left hand. She’s helpful and kind, but she’s just as observing as she is good, and that is a problem for the first time. Jeno has never hidden anything from her, but now, it’s frightening to think that Heejin could ever find out about Jaemin. He wouldn’t know what to say.

The truth is that Heejin has never said anything to make Jeno believe she’d think of him any differently, but she has never said anything to make him believe she’d accept him either. Jeno knows they’re raising their kids to be respectful, mindful citizens, but it’s different - everyone can think people deserve basic respect despite their identity, but that gets blurrier once you ask them to accept and love those who aren’t the same as them. They haven’t talked to Mina and Eric about that, either; not with the type of neighborhood they live in, with the type of kids they see at school. Everyone in this place is and acts the same, and the topic is never brought up.

Still, there is a chunk of hope inside of him that Heejin is not that type of person. That she wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, that she’d be respectful about Jeno’s feelings; that’s the least to hope for. But it’s not like Jeno is ever coming out, is it? It’s not like there’s anything to come out about when Jaemin is the only person in his mind. There are no other men, but - there are no other women either. It’s just the memory of him that plagues Jeno wherever he is, no matter the time or how he feels about it. Missing Jaemin comes in waves, and Jeno started to drown really fast with just a few pictures, a few repressed memories.

Jeno also wonders if Jaemin ever thinks about him, if he thought he was better off without Jeno when they fell apart, but that’s wishful thinking at best. It’s capable Jaemin doesn’t even remember him, and Jeno doesn’t know if that's saddening or relieving. Maybe a little of both. Maybe he doesn’t even think of Jeno as anything but a failed relationship, as a broken heart he didn’t get a lesson from - just one of life’s many rough spots.

But if he does think about Jeno, and if he does it all the while Jeno is also thinking about him on the other side of the city, then it’s too much to take. Then Jeno would drop almost everything to go to him, but that’s not happening anytime soon, for sure. No one thinks about Jeno like that - no one cares to that point.

It’s nice to imagine Jaemin now, maybe with a beard or stronger, more mature features. The idea makes something inside of him stir awake, and Jeno tries to not dive too deep into that thought; it wouldn’t be fair to him. Those types of daydreams are the ones he savours, the ones he takes longer to go through, the ones he keeps for later like day old leftovers. The ones where Jaemin is here, with him, and his hands trace paths never known before, finding Holy Graals among Jeno's pores.

Even that small thought - the improbable idea that Jaemin could, in some place in time and space, be with Jeno, is enough to ease his troubled heart. Jeno feels himself relax against the couch again, a long sigh unwinding from his lungs, eyes closing slowly. However, that peace is not kept for long; when he hears gentle paddling getting closer and closer, Jeno knows one of the twins had woken up.

"Dad?" Eric calls, his voice so gentle it almost got lost among the air con's rumbling.

Jeno opens his eyes, turning around to stare right into his son's standing figure. Eric is about the same height as Mina, but it's not always easy to tell that they're twins - like Jeno was around his age, he is a small kid, shoulders hunched and legs impossibly skinny despite the chub on his cheeks and belly.

"Hi, angel," he answers, reaching out a hand to him. Eric grabs it with his own tiny palms, getting closer to Jeno's laid down form. His hair is a mess, sticking out to all the sides, and his pajamas are getting a bit too short for him. "What's up?"

"I'm not sleepy," his son mumbles, playing with Jeno's fingers. "I'm sorry," he adds as an afterthought, a tiny pout on his lips.

Jeno smiles, hooking his hands under Eric's arms to bring him closer, making him lay down in front of him. The boy doesn't mind it. "Don't be sorry, it's okay," he tells him, gently patting his head. "Dad also hasn't slept well these past days."

Eric hums, not saying anything else. Jeno holds him impossibly closer, like a teddy bear, and it's far too comforting. He is the closest to an angel you could get on Earth, and Jeno is sometimes too afraid to even get closer to him, not always the most delicate person he can possibly be. Heejin is better at handling him, and that's always something Jeno feels somewhat guilty about.

The truth is that, growing up, Jeno's father wasn't one to be caring and gentle either. His earliest childhood memories were stamped by his dad's ideology, and it took almost two decades and a half for Jeno to understand that men are allowed to hug each other, to cry, to even demonstrate the simplest of emotions. His father is now far too old to keep that mentality, and Jeno can recall a few times they've hugged, but it has never been like this - not how Jeno and Eric are now, cuddled together like they belong in levels much deeper than just physical.

"Eric," he says, squeezing him with his arms. His son hums again, sleepily, and Jeno takes it as a pass to keep going. "Even if you're reborn in another life, please be dad's son again."

The boy burrows further into Jeno's chest, silently nodding, and he looks like he's about to fall asleep. Jeno might not be the best father, might not work hard enough yet, but that's always something he prides himself in being able to do - he can tell his son that he loves him, and at the end of the day, that is what matters. He can hold Eric in his arms, can squeeze him so tight no space lies in between, and his son will know he is loved; a lot of fathers can't do that. Jeno falls asleep not longer after him, nose buried in Eric's hair. _There is hope for me yet,_ he thinks before his eyes close.

Heejin wakes them up the next morning, gently shaking Jeno's shoulders, her hair molding her face and her eye bags dark enough for Jeno to flinch at them, a sorry sigh leaving his mouth.

"Good morning," she whispers, watching as Eric stirs awake in Jeno's arms. He's warm from being pressed against his father all night, and contempt burns through Jeno's veins as he allows him to get up, letting go of his tiny frame with a yawn. "It's Saturday."

"Are you going to work today, mom?" Eric asks in his small voice, eyes round and huge like Heejin's.

She smiles. "Yeah, honey."

The boy juts out his bottom lip, but accepts it when Heejin lends him a hand, pulling him out of the couch and into a hug. Over his shoulder, she smiles at Jeno, and he offers a weak grin back, throwing her a thumbs up. He must look wrecked, because she frowns slightly, cocking her head to the side in question. Jeno shrugs, and their silent conversation ends when Eric pulls away, declaring he's hungry enough to eat an entire lion.

They're both standing in front of the stove trying to work their way around premade pancake batter when Heejin bumps her hip into his, turning her head around to stare at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answers, squinting to try and read from the package. "What does this say? My glasses are upstairs."

She takes it from his hands, examining it. "It says that we should keep an eye for the ratio of dry ingredients."

"This is far too complicated for something that comes in a box," Jeno mumbles grumpily, staring at the bowl in front of him. "I thought capitalism made things easier."

"It's because you're tired," Heejin tells him, taking the bowl in front of him and passing it to her side. "You're going to give yourself a headache and honestly, with your back, I don't know what got into you to fall asleep on the couch. You're not twenty-two anymore, Jeno."

He only spares her an indignant glance before moving to the stove, grabbing the batter Heejin had successfully done and moving it to the pan. It's easy to get them right now that he's grown used to it, but flipping them is always a juvenile joy he still tries to achieve every time he's making pancakes. Jeno flips the first one, turning around to see if anyone had noticed it, and is met with Mina's bright eyes, impressed from her feet to the top of her tiny head.

Kids are amazing - they're so easy to impress and the bar is so, so low. Jeno wonders why he didn't have them sooner in life, but the answer to that question hits him like a brick: because you were too busy dating your college roommate in an all-boy dormitory.

Remembering Jaemin in the middle of moments like these still makes him feel a little perturbed. Jeno knows being a father and a husband hasn't made him less than human, but sometimes it feels like so - sometimes it feels much too egoistic, perhaps even greedy of him, to want something in his life to the point of being feverish when he should be focusing on being a better father, a better employee. Thinking of Jaemin in the middle of his kitchen as he makes pancakes for his kids just remembers him that Jeno is nowhere near him, and that he shouldn't be so constant on his mind for someone he met a decade ago. Still, Jeno sits and eats with both his kids and Heejin, trying to run away from the thought of Jaemin as he listens to the twins bicker. That is what he can do, at least for now.

When they're all done, and he's back near the stove to wash the dishes, Heejin walks into the kitchen with a suspicious glint in her eye, leaning against the counter and crouching over her phone.

"Jeno, do you remember Donghyuck from college?" she says, getting impossibly closer to the screen.

The mention of college makes Jeno tense up, his eyes immediately averting to his own hands; Donghyuck wasn't one of his close friends, so that makes him less likely to know about Jaemin, but even then, that is not enough to stop Jeno from clutching his chest in anxiety, back turned to Heejin. "I mean- Yeah, a little."

She hums. "He added me to an Instagram group chat with people from college. Apparently, it's been ten years."

Jeno's breath hitches, his hand gripping the counter of the sink strongly enough to make his knuckles go pale. His heart bangs against his lungs, painfully rummaging through Jeno's entire body, and he keeps his back strained, hoping that Heejin won't notice it.

"I can ask them to add you, if you want to," she continues, innocently. "There are people here you haven't talked to in years. I mean, weren't you and - what's his name again?, well, weren't you and your roommate really tight together back then? I think he's in this, too."

His throat goes dry, hands slipping up from the plate he was currently washing with a loud bang, the object falling to the floor aggressively. The sound of it breaking is enough to make him turn around, and Jeno gulps, watching as Heejin looks between him plate and the plate like he just dropped dead in front of her.

"You seriously need some rest," she says, dropping her phone and quickly moving to get a broom. She cleans the mess in about no time as Jeno stands and stares, paralyzed to his very core.

 _Does she know? How? Has she found the pictures? What's going on?_ are few of the many things that went through his mind, but as Heejin examines his hands for cuts, Jeno determines that she doesn't know anything about Jaemin, and that she's just trying to be nice and get him to reconnect with old friends. "I know," he answers in a breathy voice, words coming out weakly. "I'm sorry. I know you're tired from work."

Heejin shakes her head, dropping Jeno's hands after making sure he is okay. She waves her hand around, dismissing his words. "Eric got the "I'm sorry" from you, you know that, right? Go rest. You've done enough."

Jeno nods slightly before heading over to their shared bedroom, walking by two very entertained Mina and Eric with their eyes glued to the TV.

The thing about panic is that it messes with time where it's at its softest. Panic is a shadow that waits between bricks, a quiet threat you can't denounce, the feeling of a thousand eyes sitting on your back while you can't tell where they stand. And to Jeno, who knows monotony as well as he does, panic is somewhat worse than being dull, than being empty - a house with nothing inside is still a house, but one with evil under its ceiling can no longer be anything other than hell. Panic changes even the slightest perception, drips all over reality, and it shrinks time like plastic that came too close to the oven.

He doesn't know if he'd like to see Jaemin again. Of course, in theory, it would be nice - to see him and his tall frame, broad shoulders, hair the same tone of beautiful raven it was back then. It would be nice to see him, maybe strike a conversation, maybe see if Jeno _is_ in fact attracted to him rather than the image of him when he was younger, when things were much easier. But that's the hard part; what if Jeno is? What if he sees Jaemin and all the things he had buried ever so deeply within himself came back in the flick of a light?

Jeno knows his marriage isn't supposed to last. Jeno knows something like this could wreck it completely, from inside out - only a glance to real, tangible love and it'll be the ruin of the years of romantic indifference he and Heejin managed to keep up for the kids. It has always been a question of time, but Jeno has done the most to guarantee it wouldn't happen from his side; and it's happening. And it would happen, too, giving it two or three years, until Eric and Mina are old enough to understand, but Jeno did not want to be the cause of it.

While laying in bed, he wonders if they'll still be friends after it inevitably ends. If Heejin would still be proud to call him the father of her children, the man she came to love over the years, but that feels a lot far away from him than he'd think it would be back when they agreed to get married for the sake of the twins. Jeno thought he'd spend the following years wallowing in the misery of being committed to someone he doesn't love, but that was far from the truth - Heejin became family, and in a weird way, Jeno did love her. It's hard to let that go.

And the kids; would they accept the fact that Jeno feels something for a man? Would it be weird, would it be traumatizing? Would Heejin keep them away from him, claiming Jeno is a bad influence? Would the three of them ever forgive him? These are things that Jeno thinks a lot about nowadays. Before, coming out was far from an option, but the longer time passes the more it starts to become a reality, and seeing Jaemin again, the cause of everything that happened after those pictures were found, it could go downhill really quickly. It could make Jeno fall into his senses well enough that, by the time the day is over, he would not be married anymore.

Heejin comes upstairs a few hours later, only to find a very awake Jeno with his eyes glued to the ceiling fan, hands resting on his stomach. She closes the door behind her very gently, tiptoeing into the room, and offers Jeno a weak smile. "Hey, thought you'd be sleeping."

Jeno doesn't answer, and he knows he's being annoying and uncooperative, but these are few of the things the human mind becomes once it feels like it's scared and it needs saving. Maybe if he rejects Heejin's advances of taking care of him, it would somehow control the fear of her judgement; then, when her rejection comes, it'll be much easier to deal with it, to pretend it doesn't sting as hard as Jeno knows it does. But Heejin is a mother, through and through, and everything about her is warm enough to make Jeno feel bad for not letting himself be cracked open for her inspection.

"Do you not want to see your friends from college?" she asks, sitting by his feet on the bed. The mothers from their neighborhood are right - Heejin does look like she hasn't aged a day past 23, but she has a certain air of maturity around her that make it evident she knows better. She looks young and girlish, waiting for his response, and this time Jeno can't bring himself to say anything. There are no words in the Korean language that would be enough to describe the entire spider web of glistening fear and wanting inside of him.

Heejin wets her lips at his lack of response, balancing herself on her arms. "I'm worried about you, Jeno. You haven't seen friends in months, you're unreachable, and I know you know that loneliness can really mess up someone's head," she seems sad, a sigh escaping her thin lips, and Jeno feels extremely guilty for being the reason behind it. "I thought it would be good for you to see them again. I know it's been hard, and raising kids is tiring, and…" she averts her eyes, now glancing directly at her own lap. "And I know we both would rather be married to someone we actually desire, but we have to make it through. For the kids. Remember?"

Jeno's voice comes out scratchy, as if he hasn't used it for too long and it ended up spoiled. "Do you think we'll ever get a divorce?" he asks, not intending to sound as hopeful as he did.

That makes Heejin appear a taken aback, but not by the sting of rejection. They know they both think about it a lot more than they should, a lot more than they let on to each other, but Jeno needs to know if what he's doing is right - if this is also what Heejin wants, though how couldn't it be? He waits for her answer, staring at her quietly, studying every crease and every switch in her expression. It's so silent Jeno could hear his own breathing; tense, telling him that they maybe had once belonged to each other, but that is too far gone to be noticed now.

After some moments, she nods, breaking Jeno out of his stupor. "Yeah, I think so."

"You do?" Jeno asks again, to be sure. He watches Heejin carefully as she moves to lay on her back, beside him, turning her own eyes to the ceiling. Their forearms tough, but there's no sparkle behind it - it's just the foreign friction of skin that grew too used to be alone.

"Yeah, I do." She turns her head to the side, watching him back; Jeno shies away from it. "I don't know if there's anyone in your heart, Jeno, but you should go on with it if there is. We're parents, I get that, but we're people too. If you center your entire life around the kids you'll be left with nothing when they grow up."

This feels a lot like advice to her own self, as well, but Jeno doesn't comment on it. He knows Heejin is smart enough to know what's going on under her roof, and his shoulders immediately relax at her words, even if Jeno didn't know how much he wanted to hear her approval up until now. She just has that about her, and Jeno would miss it dearly when they get divorced; how could he not? Heejin is much more than just the mother of his kids. She's family.

"Thank you, Heejin," he says, feeling his ears turn red and his cheeks get warm. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I'll be out of your hair soon."

Heejin laughs a bit, bittersweet. It's weird to leave this life behind when they've been at it for six years, but it feels like this is it; like there is not road under their feet anymore. Jeno once read a book that said it would be nice if, when people were about to part from each other, small beacons of light shone over their heads, signalizing that their time together is over now. Then, followed by the warning, people would part ways after being able to say their goodbyes and wish each other well. This feels like it - this feels like their lights are slowly flickering in and out of reality, urging them to tie loose ends before their final warning.

Jeno allows her to add him to the group chat afterwards. Divorce is a funny thing now that Jeno is an adult - it seemed like a concern for people much older than him, but now it is here, and he's not as young as he thought he was anymore. They end up drinking wine together by the couch later on, when the kids were already asleep, and they tried - they really did - to kiss for one last time, but Jeno was too drunk and Heejin kept laughing at his terrible attempt of a shaved bear, so it didn't work. All in all, it felt like drinking with family. And family Jeno loves.

Jeno doesn't dream much.

He's not sure of what that says about him, if it says anything at all, but the few times he's dreamed for the past year would be able to be counted in someone's right hand. Dreams aren't often memorable for him, and even if they were, Jeno suspects that they wouldn't mean anything - the last ones he's had were just foolish, random tales that happened to be short and boring, showing things that usually have went down in real life. Jeno dreams of filing taxes, of making dinner, of braiding Mina's hair; all of these mundane things that somehow stick long enough to be in his subconscious.

However, the last dream he had was about Jaemin, and it was only fitting to his situation. Well, it wasn't solely him - Jeno dreamt of getting divorced first, then meeting up with Jaemin. In the dream, they didn't speak at all, neither they did much; he just showed up exactly after Jeno signed the divorce papers, and they just sat there, staring at each other and smiling. Jeno's pen was still in his hand and the ink was still wet, but Jaemin seemed to magically appear before his eyes the moment its tip left the paper, like he's been waiting; like he's been watching. He supposes it was a little creepy, but what's wanting without a reasonable amount of terror?

Jeno suspects that the only reason they didn't say anything to each other in the dream is that his subconscious doesn't quite remember Jaemin's voice, and the realization of that weighs heavy on his heart. Perhaps these last few days have softened him, but a lover's voice is as important as their name, and Jeno regrets ever repressing these memories; he'll never be able to get them back, which leaves him with only half a notion of what their relationship was. Somehow, the idea of having forgotten such an important part of his life stings him right where he's at his most vulnerable - the empty place where Jaemin's memory should be takes up much more space than Jeno would expect, and it feels just like going through life by halves.

The group chat in question has roughly twenty past students from their time in college, even if Jeno doesn't remember most of them. Donghyuck is the administrator, and he's the one that does most of the talking; as if they were back in that time once again. Jeno doesn't truly care about anyone else from college, mostly because these people could have reached out to during the past ten years if they wanted to, but he supposes it's inevitable to feel himself get a little tense over the idea of having to meet all of them. Jaemin isn't in the group - so that was one thing Heejin was wrong about, but after some shameful stalking Jeno managed to find his account, buried deep in Donghyuck's following count.

It's a locked account, and despite himself, Jeno takes approximately three days to try and send a request. Between daily life and tasks, he'd grab his phone and just stare at the "send a follow request" button, debating whether or not he should click it until exhaustion or the need to move on to another task made him hesitantly put it away. It's not only when he accidentally clicks it by surprise after he hears Heejin storming into the kitchen that he does it, and even in that context Jeno locks his phone, quickly turning it off and putting it away out of anxiety to check it.

He knows it's Jaemin's account because of the picture - it's nothing much, just a picture from what seems to be a trip to Guam, but it's the most recent photograph of him Jeno could ever get his hands on without actually contacting him. Jaemin looks a lot younger than Jeno at their age, but it's probably what living a childfree life does to a thirty year old - with his slicked back brown hair (Did he lighten it? Why does it look so honey-ish? Jeno doesn't know if he likes it more in brown or in its natural color), pastel orange dress shirt and white slacks, he looks like a regular man on vacation, skin glazed over with the kindest tan. Jeno thinks he hasn't changed at all; only perhaps getting a bit more fit, a bit more relaxed. The amount of times Jeno clicked on that picture is shameful enough to go unmentioned.

Then, it takes him one more day to _finally_ check his phone again, anxiously opening the Instagram application and trying to tame his expectations to their lowest point. It's okay if Jaemin doesn't accept his request - actually, it's capable he doesn't even use his account anymore. Who even uses Instagram nowadays? Jeno does, but that's because he's old, and a father, and that is what he does. Jaemin, on the other hand, can be in any other social media scattered around the globe, so Jeno tells himself to not get his hopes up. If he hasn't accepted it, then he'll just move on with his life - it wasn't meant to be.

Except it was, because as Jeno lets his eyes go over the notification of acceptance, his shoulders drop in relief, heartbeat picking up against his ribcage. He's tapping his foot on the ground of his kitchen, mug of coffee on his hand, as he clicks on Jaemin's profile, being met with a handful more of posted pictures. Jeno feels like a schoolgirl while going through his profile, reading the comments and going as far as to check his stories, but he's just so unbelievably joyful to have a teter between him and Jaemin. This is the first chance in years Jeno got to _actually_ see him, and the more he reads through his posts, the more he wants to meet up with him as soon as possible.

Because Jaemin is very smart. His pictures are mostly of him or concerts, but between them all there are a few posts about politics, about arts, about literature; all of these things that Jeno would have found extremely boring and pretentious in other people's feeds, but they are not once it's Jaemin. He spent the entire night giggling to himself like a fool, taking his sweet time to introduce his brain to this new version of Jaemin, one that is strong, tall, and heartbreakingly beautiful. Jeno does not save pictures, as that feels far too weird even to him, and he makes sure to not like any posts but the first one that comes up in his feed; Jaemin doesn't need to know about how much Jeno cares about his pictures, his movie reviews, his smiling faces while sitting behind a bar counter. It goes implied.

Jeno is already happy enough to just follow him and get updates every now and then, but the idea of arranging a meet up with Jaemin doesn't leave his head until he actually goes through with it. To that, Jeno gives himself another week - his nerves have been the most fragile lately, and Jaemin takes that to its maximum because _seriously,_ how is someone so beautiful? How is someone so impossibly charming? Jeno is a thirty year old man, but Jaemin reduces him to a teenager again.

Nostalgia is a powerful weapon. Nostalgia makes Jeno weak in the knees. Nostalgia drags five fingers down his spine - but Jaemin is a real man, living in a real context, and Jeno doesn't believe him to he an unattainable memory; Jeno sees him now, though he might have not before. Despite that, it's clear to Jeno he'd do whatever is needed of him in order to keep Jaemin in his life for a little longer, given he already lost him once and doesn't plan to do it again. That is, if Jaemin even accepts him back - if Jaemin even wants to see him.

Jeno sends the message with his breath stuck in his throat, lips bitten to the point of bruises as he types it out. Nothing too forward, nothing too vague; a simple meeting 'for the sake of old times', even if he's not quite sure what that would mean for them. Does Jaemin even remember? He probably does. Jeno really wants him to remember, to be nostalgic over their relationship, but it's just the deeper wish to be wanted within him that's taking over his thinking process. The truth is that no one can tell, for sure, what goes on in another adult's mind - that's something Jeno took a while to learn, but he's getting better at peacefully coming to terms with the fact that he has no control of how he is perceived. He just wishes, deeply within himself, that Jaemin can have it in him to want Jeno back.

 _Hello,_ he types in, cringing at how serious he sounds. Jeno debates whether to say _hey!_ or not, but eventually opts for writing the same way he always does. Jaemin knows him, Jeno tells himself. There's no reason to try and pretend he's anything but an arrogant son of a bitch who can't even admit when he's sorry. _I was wondering_ , he types again, then erases it for the sake of rewriting it in a more confident manner - _I would like if we'd meet up for the sake of old times._ Too confident, he cringes. Then adds: _If you'd like to._ Should he add ' _it's okay if you don't'?_ Jaemin must remember how passive and nervous Jeno used to be. Maybe he should just leave it as it is. _We could go to a cafe,_ he sends right after. _There's a nice one next to where I work._

Jeno wants to say that he'd go pick up Jaemin if he needs him to, wants to say he'd run his car right out of a bridge if it means he'll get to Jaemin quicker, but he decides not to; Jeno doesn't want to be reprimanded for coming on too strong. He doesn't know if Jaemin would enjoy it. Even with his own feelings, Jeno knows he was the one who left Jaemin alone after college, and that, no matter how much he'd like to not be remembered as the one who got away, there is nothing he can do if Jaemin doesn't want to see him. No amount of wanting is enough to create reciprocity, which makes everything always a little scarier than it should be - nevertheless, Jeno presses send. It would be better to regret than to long for Jaemin knowing he hasn't even tried.

He drops his phone on his desk, childishly running to his office's bathroom and locking the door behind him. Jeno stands in front of the mirror, and the man in front of him is not the same from a month ago; perhaps not even the same from this morning. There's a gentle blush on his cheeks that didn't seem to be here a few days ago, a infantile sensation on the tip of his fingers - anatomy makes a body, wanting makes a human. The past month has been a journey of acknowledging his past, looking under memories and between thoughts for clues of the person he was before he sold a good part of his life to a corporation, to the belief that he should follow a certain path to achieve the life he was supposed to have. Being free of these shackles is still a work in progress, but the absence of them gives place to an unusual excitement for what's to come. Jeno loves his children, and he doesn't regret the life he came to have, but it gets clearer with time that it doesn't suit him anymore. That he wants more.

Being a parent and also an ambitious person is hardly ever a good combination, but Jeno trusts that Mina and Eric will know, in the future, that every person deserves to want more for their life, not excluding the ones that are busy with children, grandchildren, or any type of dependent. Obligations can make you go a little insane sometimes, but the process of waking up to your senses is always violently pleasurable; for there is nothing Jeno regrets about it. Wanting Jaemin was only the beginning of what came to be his liberation from the chains that used to hold him back; it proved, once and for all, that there's more to life than labor and family. Even if, sometimes, what's more to life is a tall man with surprisingly muscly arms and the ghost of a past Jeno wishes he could remember in more detail.

He washes his face, touching his skin like it's the first time he ever noticed it there. His body has always been a vessel, leveraging him from achievement to achievement, but for the first time Jeno feels like tending to it; like gently letting his fingers graze his prominent cheekbones, the bump of his nose, the top of his lip. Perhaps that was always a part of the problem - the more Jeno believed his body to be apart from him, a tool instead of his own, the more it became a product, and a product is never worthy of care for the sake of caring. It is only tended to when it's about to be sold. But this is not selling, is it? Because Jeno's body works not as something he owns, but a materializing of his mind and soul, so why not start immediately? So why not give it the nutrients, the resting, the peace, the love it so desperately craves? Since when has Jeno been so tense, so stiff?

He lets his shoulder drop, unclenching his jaw and straightening his back. Jeno tries it in front of the mirror, watching as his eyes flutter and his chin starts to raise up, like a doll coming to life. _That is a real human being,_ he tells himself. _It should not be treated like anything but one, based on the simple fact that it is human and it exists._ Who would've thought, then, that the easiest hint of love can unravel an entire new universe inside of someone, blooming like a rose that has met the sun for too long to not be able to touch it in its entirety? This feels like walking inside his body for the first time, like the end to a long dissociative episode, like burning the robot self and coming home to a human being in all of its softness and its devotion. What was life before it turned into this? He can't remember. It's been too long since he saw a real person looking back at him in the mirror.

The rest of the day went by so quickly Jeno almost believed time to work as the waves of the sea, gently taking him where he needs to go and pulling him in through the current. He doesn't check his phone until after he gets home, but it's okay - Jaemin hasn't answered yet, so he might as well start dinner and try and do something he hasn't done before this time. Jeno got home a little earlier than usual, the house being empty because Heejin is out getting the kids from school, so he does what one would do and turns on music on the TV, letting his ears be filled with a handful of songs he used to listen to as a teenager. This time around, the past is his friend, and the past is forgiving; it wants Jeno to be well. It has brought him here, and it'll take him anywhere he wants to go. Time is not a punishment, he tells himself. Time is a gift.

Heejin and the kids arrive a few minutes after, the music gently moving around the house like water swirling in a glass. Jeno hears their steps before he hears them, and Mina walks into the kitchen head first, her face beaming in happiness once she materializes that Jeno is actually here, cooking. He doesn't get to say anything before her, thought, because she's quick to squeal: "Can I help?!"

And, well, Jeno is far too content to be bothered by how much of a mess she usually makes. He hands her a piece of leftover dough, and watches as she happily skips to the table, playing with it to form a flower. Heejin and Eric walk in after her, but they don't stay for too long - claiming he has to shower immediately, he drags his mother upstairs with him, his free hand gently swaying to the beat of the song Jeno put up. Heejin doesn't leave before giving him a smile, one that only Jeno could possibly understand: _I'm proud of you,_ it says. Heejin just has that; she knows when you're happy.

Jeno ends the night laughing over a round of Monopoly, a cup of soda on his hand as him and Heejin don't drink in front of the kids. Mina gets sent to jail once again, her lips forming into a pout, and Eric giggles to himself, throwing the dice. It's a little late for them, but it's okay - ever since the ongoing virus has been contained, Heejin has went back to her usual work hours, so it's not as rough for her as it was before to take care of them during the day if they're allowed to skip school. Jeno can't call in sick from work, but he's been having smaller breaks, so now he can get home a full hour earlier; that's already something.

Before heading to sleep, he sneakily takes a peak at his phone. Still nothing from Jaemin, but Jeno knows someone their age is too busy to be constantly checking their phone - it's no big deal. For the first time in months, perhaps even years, Jeno is able to fall asleep after only a few minutes of laying down with his eyes closed; it's insane how life comes easier once you have something to look out for.

Jeno is munching on a cinnamon roll in the kitchen the next morning, one of life's little pleasures, when his phone chimes in on the peaceful atmosphere of his barely awaken house. He cleans his hand with a piece of cloth before getting to it, seeing Jaemin's username on his screen even before he unlocks his phone. His heart does a gentle swirl, spinning like a ballerina, and Jeno quietly wills it to calm down before reading the message.

" _today at 2?"_ It says, being followed by " _send me the address_ " and a smiling emoticon, so impossibly charming even in its simplicity it got Jeno smiling back. It's weird, how the human brain refuses to give up - refuses to let life become dull for too long; Jeno throws his head back, closing his eyes and smiling wide to the ceiling before typing back an overexcited " _okay!!!!!!!!!!!"_ and the address of the cafe he's been wanting to visit ever since he got hired. He grabs his coat, putting his phone inside its pocket before walking out of the kitchen to kiss his kids good morning and leave for the day.

Two in the afternoon comes so slowly Jeno is concerned he found a way to stop time for once and for all, contradicting all the astrophysicists who have said it's not possible to. Minutes stretch for so long they manage to behave like hours would, but Jeno knows that time hasn't changed nearly as much as he has; the world still goes on like it always does, but today he is not the same. Today he is on top of the tide, yesterday he was under the waves.

The Universe refuses to stop, though, so two in the afternoon gets here slowly but surely. Jeno is already out of his office by 1:30, making his assistant look at him weirdly; Jeno usually asks her for coffee instead of going to get it himself, not even leaving the building for his break, but as previously mentioned, today is not an usual day. Today is the day Jeno sees Jaemin again, and he has no idea of what to expect, which leaves him with a huge scope for imagination, and imagine Jeno does while walking inside the cafe thirty minutes earlier than the time they agreed to meet on.

He knows Jaemin's style is totally different from his own wardrobe, consisting mainly of work suits and clothes to wear at home, as he saw it on his Instagram. Jeno doesn't know how to describe it, not being the best one at keeping up with fashion, but Jaemin definitely falls more into the goth side of clothing - most of his outfits that have been posted online are always in shades of black and grey, somewhat revealing sometimes and definitely bold in how he sports a bit of smudged black eyeliner around his eyes in a few pictures. His eyes are round and doe, if Jeno remembers them correctly, but the eyeliner makes them a bit droopy, a bit darker.

Jeno remembers a few of the pieces of clothing from his Instagram; band shirts, dark ripped jeans, chains, things like that. He wonders to himself if Jaemin is going to dress up to see him - if he cares about Jeno enough to want to make a good impression, but that's a little dumb, anyways. Jaemin doesn't need to make a good impression, at least not to someone like him, who lives such a boring and ordinary life. Who is Jeno to judge anyone on how they'd rather spend their time in this Earth when he hasn't been doing a good job at it either?

But then Jaemin walks in, and Jeno would like to believe that he wasn't as done for as he made it to be, but the tingle on the back of his head has made it impossible for him to deny that these almost ten years apart have meant anything at all. Not when Jaemin's legs are so long, and his skin is so pretty, and his steps are so gentle; not when he makes Jeno's heart stir awake, interested, like he was just born in this cafe table, hands fidgety on his lap. Was there life before this moment? Of course, but it wasn't as enjoyable. Or it was, and seeing Jaemin has just messed up his senses, like Jeno knew it would.

The man smiles when he sees Jeno on a table near the window, his mouth opening wide around pearly white teeth. He looks the same from college, and it hits him all over again how life would've been different if Jeno had held on to him tighter, if the times were different and the tide was right. _It is now,_ he tells himself as he watches Jaemin's form reach him, _this is your second chance. Don't fuck it up._

Jaemin is wearing a long sleeve shirt under a button up, all dipped in shades of black or dark grey, and black ripped jeans that make him look a whole lot younger than Jeno, who sits in his work attire while trying not to stare too much. He thinks he sees Jaemin's smile falter a little as he sits before Jeno, but it's probably just his imagination; as far as Jeno knows, Jaemin's opinion of him is completely blank. There is no use in trying to figure out how another adult thinks of him. Even if said adult is beautiful, and gorgeous, and the only thing in life Jeno misses so bad he could tear apart the meaning of time for the sake of having it for one last moment.

"Hello," Jaemin speaks up first, his smile nothing short of what Jeno remembered. His voice is deeper, a little scratchy, and it makes for a thousand butterflies, running up Jeno's nape. "It's been a while."

Jeno catches himself smiling back without even registering it, letting his hand fall on the table nearing Jaemin's own palms. His nails are painted black, something he didn't do back in college, and Jeno forces himself to not stare. "It's been almost a decade," he says, then adds: "It doesn't feel like it." Even though it does, because a lot has changed since then, but Jaemin doesn't seem like one of those things. Instead, he looks quite of just the same.

"I was about to say that!" the man laughs, throwing his head back in glee. Jaemin is just an angel. "It doesn't feel like ten years. I was just walking in and it felt like…" he tries to fish for words, looking at him playfully.

"Like we're picking up where we left?" Jeno suggests, cocking his head to the side. _Where we left_ comes implied, but Jaemin's smile doesn't get any less beautiful - if anything, it melts into a fond smirk, his back settling against the chair as he takes a full look at Jeno, who tries not to get embarrassed.

"Yeah, something like that," Jaemin says, voice somewhat soft, tender. Jeno imagines he's comparing the Jeno from now to the one from before. "How are you? Looking all fancy, I could swear it's not the Jeno I know."

And it's not, Jeno wants to say, but it kind of is. Time is a tricky thing. "It's just for work," Jeno answers, resting his eyes on Jaemin like he's the first man he's ever seen. "I'm still me, just a little more busy."

"Aren't we all?" tongue in cheek, Jaemin teases. "So nice to see you. I wasn't sure if you remembered me at all."

"Of course I do." Jeno averts his eyes, coughing out awkwardly. He's not sure why he says the next thing, but this is the first time he's ever had to flirt in six years, so maybe that settles it. "I mean… How could I forget… Like… Us."

At that, Jaemin cocks his head to the side, a strand of golden brown hair falling down to his lashes. "Us?"

The other man shyly nods, averting his eyes to his lap before getting them back up at Jaemin, who smiles cheekily. He looks like he's having too much fun - putting up a front, acting like he doesn't know what happened between them. Jeno has to be honest and say he deserves it, but that's how Jaemin always has been; language, to him, is just another thing to toy with, the sounds that come from the tip of his tongue meaning absolutely nothing at all. Jeno wonders how he used to deal with that, but as Jaemin gets closer, his eyes change. _Oh,_ he notices. _Jaemin's voice is in the eyes rather than the tongue._

"I didn't know we could talk about us," the man says, voice lowering as he blinks, quite like it's a secret only the two of them share; like there is no one else in the room that would know what they know. Jeno blushes despite himself.

"We can if you want to," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, watching as Jaemin's eyes get a gentle, contented glint swimming amidst the dark brown irises. "But we don't have to. If you don't want."

"Oh," Jaemin says, looking less confident now, but definitely pleased. He blinks once again, scanning Jeno up and down. "I want to talk about a _lot_ of things," he announces. "But first, I want to order."

And order he does. Jeno calls the waitress over, watching as Jaemin orders a huge cup of iced coffee and a donut, while repeating his order in his head as to not embarrass himself in doing so. Jeno is thirty years old, only a few weeks away from being thirty one, but he still manages to feel nervous about social interactions, even if he doesn't know why. People used to tell him shyness goes away with age, but they never told him _which_ age - as of now, Jeno is fairly old enough to not stutter while ordering, but that doesn't mean he feels any less nervous of making a fool of himself.

He orders a cup of hot chocolate mixed with just a few drops of liquor, feeling like he might need it if Jaemin is really going to speak his mind, and a piece of strawberry pie so he doesn't drink on an empty stomach. Jeno is somehow a healthy person - the chronic tiredness is just normal for people his age, even though that is not something his doctor seems to agree on. Well, doctors are paid, though. You can't trust someone who is getting money from you.

The waitress leaves, and Jaemin's eyes fall back on him, observing. Jeno feels weirdly seen, despite the fact that the man in front of him is possibly a stranger given the time they spent apart, no matter how little his appearance has changed over the course of those ten years. It feels like being twenty again, like sitting in a campus cafe and arguing over their relationship, but the memory leaves as soon as it comes; Jaemin is an open book of his past, and everytime Jeno looks at him it's as if he sees a glimpse of the person he used to be. It goes unsaid that looking at Jaemin is terrifying.

"Are you married, Jeno?" he asks, not looking very interested in the answer. Jaemin licks his lips, letting his chin rest on his closed fist, and Jeno gulps to himself. It's not fair that he feels so intimidated.

"Well… I don't know," Jeno bites his lip, looking down. "I mean, it's complicated."

"Complicated as in you're thinking of cheating on her or complicated as in you're already cheating?" Jaemin asks again, patient. His eyes used to be a lot rounder, Jeno notices, but now they feel like staring through a mouthful of snake teeth. It's a good look on him.

Either way, Jeno profusely shakes his head. "No, nothing of the sort. It's… We're kind of... Platonically married." He taps his finger on the table awkwardly. "Like… Married, but... As friends."

The man blinks, a bit taken aback, but his face contorts in doubt quick enough. Jaemin frowns: "Are you lying to me?"

At that, Jeno also frowns: "Are you serious?"

"Well," Jaemin looks away, looking the tiniest bit embarrassed. Jeno pats himself in the back for that - it's not usual of him to be discomposed in that sense. At least not how Jeno remembers him. "I'm just asking. Men lie a lot."

"You're also a man, Jaemin," he comments before his mouth even registers. This is not what he expected from meeting with Jaemin, but it's pleasurable nonetheless - Jeno can't imagine the last time he actually bickered with someone, or even spoke his mind so freely. In some sense, Jaemin unlocks something inside of him almost no one can get to; Jeno just has to figure out what that is. Maybe it's just a personality that's been buried so deep inside of him only anger or desire can make it come to life. Needless to say, Jaemin evokes in him both.

" _Straight_ men, I meant," the man corrects himself, looking at Jeno boldly. Jaemin puffs his chest, visually proud of his last argument, larger than the world in every meaning of the saying. Jeno bites down a smile at his confidence.

Unfortunately for him, Jeno knows himself well enough to disagree. "I'm not straight."

That makes Jaemin's expression stutter, eyes widening slightly. It's a reminder that the memory of Jeno from college didn't get lost in the passage of time - to Jaemin, it is very real, and it's frozen in the history of his own life and his own journey to love and self acceptance. Jeno fights the urge to flinch; how many other versions of him are being carried around by people he hasn't spoken to in years? How many Jenos are out there, and who do they belong to? And to whom does the Jeno from now belong?

"You sure wanted to be," Jaemin mutters, looking down in annoyance. That's when the fight inside of Jeno melts completely, turning into the flickering burn of non processed guilt instead; like candlelight when it's too dark outside.

"I know," he answers, voice getting softer. The drastic tone change makes Jaemin's eyes lift from his lap, landing on Jeno's face, now bewildered. "But I'm not, and I know that because I've been missing you."

Jaemin's shoulders drop. Not in sadness; anger. "Don't say that," he says, frowning. "You don't know what you're saying. You're married."

"Well, if only you'd go quiet for me to explain it," Jeno says, getting slightly annoyed again. Though he knew things wouldn't go down like his daydreams, this is not a reaction he expected for. Jeno sighs deeply, pulling back from his pride to ask, for once and for all: "Can you just listen? Please?"

Jaemin still doesn't look convinced. It makes Jeno wonder if many straight men have lied to him, if this is an issue with precedence or if it's just Jeno he can't bring himself to trust; even then, it doesn't feel like a question he wants to hear the answer to. Jeno tries again, relaxing his features: "Please, Jaemin?"

The vulnerability in his voice makes Jaemin's facade crumble, and the other man hesitantly nods. Then once again, this time more confident; who would've thought that such a gentle motion of his head would make Jeno's world that much brighter?

"I found a lot of pictures," he starts, gulping down the things that would've went unsaid in another situation. _This_ , he tells himself, _is not the moment for holding back_. _This is not the time for moderation._ "Like… Of you. From college," Jeno adds. "And I just… Jaemin, I can't get them out of my head. You don't know how it is. You don't know what it's like to give everything you have to work and money and kids, and then you find out there has been a time in your life you were so happy, and you were so in love, and you remember that you lost it because you were scared and ashamed and you thought something like that could ruin your life. And the truth is I just can't get you out of my head."

Jaemin doesn't say anything, and he takes it as a cue to continue: "Trust me, I've tried to," he says. "I've done everything I could've to tell myself that what I feel for those pictures is merely platonic. That my life as it is is better than average, and that I'm lucky, and that I have no reason to change it. But I can't do that because I think of you too much, and I dream of you too much, and I risk too much for that. I've risked too much just to be here." Jeno sighs, feeling his insides turn mushy again. In this moment, everything is scarily real. All of the build up to this moment - it all feels too real. "I will not stop thinking of you if we never see each other again; and I will not stop thinking of you if we see each other next Tuesday. I just don't know what to do anymore, so… Yeah."

The waitress arrives just as he's done talking, the tension pairing over their heads like a guillotine. Jaemin stares at him as she puts down their plates, studying Jeno's every move. Jeno feels awake, simply put; he feels as if everything that lead him here was just a dream, an illusion, and now he's at a place where things might start to be real again - where Jeno might start being real again. When the waitress leaves, Jaemin speaks up: "I believe in you," he says, gently stirring his coffee while looking up at Jeno, a hit of a smile around his snake teeth. "What do you want, Jeno?"

 _What do you want, Jeno?_ is a good question. What does he want - what is it that Jeno craves? There is far too much he wants in this life, but as he watches Jaemin's take the cup of coffee to his lips, he decides to start with the little things; the ones he can achieve in short term while working on long term changes. Jaemin's Adam's apple makes a show out of gulping down his coffee, his neck long and smooth like the clear reflection of someone's face against shiny gold, which makes his next words much easier to say. What is it, then, that Jeno wants? Well, all of the things a man can want - but _especially_ the ones he can't have.

"I want to see you next Tuesday," Jeno announces, feeling the heaviness of his commitment forming on his chest. The stake of loyalty to the man in front of him takes its claim at his heart, as if the Universe gave him a contract deal and Jeno just signed it, for better or for worse. That's it - that's how he wants Jaemin. For better or for worse. "And the Tuesday after that. And every other day of the week."

Jaemin gives him a small smile from behind his coffee. "Then let's get to talking."

And they do. Jeno doesn't know how the rest of the one hour of break he has went so fast, but in the meantime they do everything in their willpower to truly reconnect, recalling the last years of their life to each other as quickly as they could. Jeno learned Jaemin owns a bar downtown, and has been for four years now, but it's a very specific kind of establishment - a gay bar. Jeno has never been to one, but the way Jaemin describes makes it feel like home away from home; he tells Jeno he spends more time at the bar than at his own apartment, and that he's been single for the entire time he owned the place, because no one has been worthy enough of coming between him and his dream job. It goes implied that Jeno has.

In return, Jeno tells him all about Mina, Eric and Heejin - he tells him about their Monopoly nights and how tall Eric is getting, about how Mina is finally understanding her mathematics homework and how Heejin forgets to turn the heater on when she gets home and Jeno is still deep asleep. At first he was hesitant to talk about Heejin, but Jaemin doesn't seem to mind it; instead, he asks about her, about her relationship with the kids, about how they even got married if Jeno doesn't like her like that. All in all, Jaemin seems amazed by his boring suburban life; it makes Jeno wonder if this is something he'd like to have.

Jaemin doesn't mention other people a lot - he talks about friends who come to visit him, about the drag queens that perform in his bar, about Donghyuck being his door neighbor, but his life seems to be mainly centered about his job as a bar owner and his passion for the people he's met over the years for the sake of it. In some way, Jeno can't help but feel a little jealous; not only Jaemin's life is interesting, it's also deeply situated in the gay scene, something Jeno never had the chance to explore. As the man recalls stories from the people he's met from when he worked as a bartender, Jeno wonders if that would've been his life had he accepted himself earlier, if he'd fit in with these people at all were he to visit.

Jaemin is in the middle of talking about a man he had an affair with - a handsome Brazilian man who came to Korea for vacation - when Jeno's alarm goes off, announcing he needs to go back to work.

"Oh, is your break over?" Jaemin asks carefully, already organizing their plates together after Jeno nods. "It's okay, you can go. I'm just making it easier for the waitress."

Jeno gets up from his chair, patting his coat to make sure he looks presentable enough for work. Jaemin organizes their table, pulling out his wallet.

"Hey?" Jeno says, grabbing his wrist to make him put his wallet down. This is the first time they've touched in years, he notices, but doesn't let it shake him away from his initial point. "Don't worry. I'll pay."

"You're going to be late," Jaemin shakes his head, still sat down, ignoring Jeno's hand on his wrist. He pulls out a few notes, but the other man is quick to get his card out, lending it to the waitress. "Jeno, take it back. Don't be stupid."

"I'm leaving right now," he announces, making Jaemin keep his money even though his hand is still extended to pay. "I don't have time to argue. Goodbye," the waitress allows him to type out his password, and as Jeno is about to leave, he realizes he forgot something. He turns around in his heels, reaching down to where Jaemin was sat and quickly pressing his lips to his cheek, his own burning red as he walks away, lips tingling. "See you soon."

Jaemin doesn't answer, just sits there in silence, stunned. Jeno feels so proud about it he smiles the entire way back to his workplace, closing his office's door to punch the air in commemoration.

Who would've thought? Certainly not Jeno. But that's the thing about life - it takes you to places you never thought you'd be, with people you never thought you'd see, doing things you told yourself you would never do. The certainty one can have about the life they're leading is that, in no time, it'll be all completely different than it was before - which, in itself, is already a blessing and a curse. The human mind may stay the same, but the world around it refuses to be stagnant, for the reality of life is that you are always going forward through step by step, and no one is getting left behind; we are all moving together. The only way out of movement is death. _That's nice, isn't it?_ Jeno thinks to himself. _We are all moving. No one is getting left behind._

He approaches his table, tearing a piece of blank paper from his tiny notebook. Jeno grabs a pen, crouching down to write out the words " _No one is getting left behind_ "; once he's done, he tears a piece of tape and sticks it beside his portrait of Eric and Mina. It's a good reminder.

Jaemin is out of his league, Jeno soon came to realize.

It was a few days after their meeting on the cafe when Jeno got home from work, taking his office clothes off before changing into something more comfortable, coming downstairs not longer after to get to the kitchen, already getting dinner started for when Heejin comes back with the kids from the mall. It's a common night - he's chopping a carrot, squinting in focus as to not cut them big enough Mina will realize she is, in fact, eating carrots when his phone rings from the living room. Jeno leaves the carrot to sit, washing his hands quickly before going to get it, seeing Jaemin's name pop up on the screen.

Jeno doesn't remember when they swapped numbers yesterday, but only because it still feels dreamy to have met him. A lot of his expectations were broken, but that's just because the real Jaemin took their place, which made daydreams pale in comparison to the person that sat with him yesterday. It's weird, to like someone again at the ripe age of thirty, but it's a nice type of weird - Jeno is not too old for it. No one seems to be anymore; not when desire saved him.

"Hello?" he picks up, moving back to the kitchen to resume his veggie chopping, the phone squished between his shoulder and ear.

"Hi," Jaemin's voice rings back, making his hands stutter for a minute. Jeno is still getting used to it; it's been just a day. "Just ringed to ask you how was work today."

Jeno smiles to himself, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to wear said smile out. "Just that?" he asks. It's hard to believe; no one has ever called just for that reason.

"Why, yes," the man answers, his voice coming out clear. It's around six, and Jeno wonders why his line is so peaceful; but Jaemin is his own boss, and it's probable that he just did not want to be at the bar today. These things happen. "How are you expecting to casually date if you don't talk to me regularly?"

 _Casually date_ , the voice in his mind giggles. Jeno wills it to shut up. "How regular are we talking about?" he asks, just to tease.

Jaemin huffs through the phone as if it's obvious. "Well, first you have to do it early in the morning. _Jaemin, have you slept well?_ " he mimics Jeno's voice, making it sound impossibly slow and stupid. Jeno doesn't even mind it - not when his heart settles back in unbearable happiness; so big he doesn't know at which point of his body it ends. "Then after lunch, you'll go: _Jaemin, have you eaten yet?_ and if I say no, you'll have to nag at me. If I say yes, you'll have to ask me if it was delicious." Jeno clicks his tongue against his cheek, but doesn't say anything. "And before you go to bed, you'll say: _Jaemin, how was work? Goodnight. Sleep well._ It's really that's easy."

"I'm a grown man with children," Jeno says, breaking into laughter. He can tell Jaemin is holding back laughter from the other side of the line, but he doesn't let his act drop for a second.

"And?" Jaemin reasons, voice breathy with barely restrained laughter. "It's been ten years. I deserve it."

"You're right," Jeno grabs the phone with his hand, pushing it closer to his face. "You do deserve it."

Sometimes it's easy to forget he has a lot to make up for to Jaemin. Honestly, Jeno can't imagine what it must have felt like to completely lose contact with someone you love because they were too afraid to keep being around you - but he likes to believe Jaemin understands him and his motives back then. Regret is not something one takes with them once they're out in the real world, simply because there is no time for that when you're in between work shifts and taking care of your kids; as previously stated, life does not stop for anyone. The only way out of movement is death, and Jeno made the choice to keep on going.

"So... How was it?" Jaemin asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. Jeno centers himself, remembering that the past is the past, and no amount of regret will be able to change it.

He has a second chance, he is not going to blow it; for the sake of his own happiness. "It was okay. Boring. My coworker got me a mug for Father's day but we're in early April."

The man giggles through the phone. "Maybe they just saw it, thought of you and wanted an excuse to give you a gift. Do you talk about your kids a lot?"

"Hm, no, I don't," he once again resumes the carrot chopping. "I just have a bunch of pictures. I don't talk a lot at work."

"You're a clingy dad!" he accuses, making him fondly shake his head before he realizes Jaemin can't see him. "Ask me about my day at work," the man demands.

"How was your day at work?" Jeno asks.

Someone in Jaemin's line chimes in, calling his name. Jeno doesn't know who it is, but Jaemin pauses the call to comply immediately, the echo of his laughter deeply engraved in Jeno's skull. There is a feeling in his stomach that wasn't here before, one that trembles and bends, twists his insides; one that feels a whole lot like fear. Jeno doesn't know fear as much as other people do - he always thought himself to be a go-getter, someone who rarely wastes time and does as he is supposed to, but lately it has come to his attention that Jaemin renders his usual fearless behavior weak. There is just that about him - he looks too breezy, too thin, like Jeno could get to the other side of him by just pushing hard enough, and the reality is that he is as easy to lose as he is to get.

He also doesn't trust much. Not like Jeno does; he is too careful. Jaemin doesn't walk around like he has a place to fall back to, a cave to drop dead in, a home to be - he doesn't trust much. Jeno knows he is somewhat open towards his feelings and frustrations, but is that the same as being vulnerable? Is that the same as trusting? There is no way to know but to keep going, and it's in his lack of control in the situation that lie Jeno's fears.

"Hi, sorry, was running some errands," Jaemin says, not disclosing anything else about his sudden exit. Jeno doesn't want him to; but maybe he does. "Sorry. Anyways: I didn't have work today. I mean, I did, but not the usual - since there was a ball last night, today was a low day. Everyone is tired and hungover," he laughs. "Mostly I just had a beer with Renjun then closed a quarter after five. Now I'm in bed. I've been for two hours."

"That sounds nice," Jeno hums, feeling the coziness of the image of Jaemin undercovers fill him up to the brim. It's almost enough to get him warm all over, his body settling back comfortably like it's pleased with his conscience. "I don't know what's a ball yet. You haven't told me."

"Stupid straight boy," the man answers, but there is not an ounce of bite on his voice. He says it fondly, joyfully, and Jeno feels extremely small; like a boy all over again, but it's hardly unpleasant. "I'll let you come see one soon and then I'll explain. Trust me! I wish I could forget the past seven years just so I could see a ball for the first time again. You're _so_ lucky!"

Jeno doesn't think being excluded from such an event by being overwhelmingly drenched up in self loathing is exactly _lucky_ , but he's not able to say anything further as he hears the front door clicking, meaning Heejin is home. Now, there is no reason to be so secretive, but Jeno feels somewhat guilty still; he doesn't owe Heejin more than what he already gives her, but he's still deathly afraid of her judgment to be so out in the open about talking to someone, _especially_ if the someone is a man. It's a stupid thought, and Heejin has eyes on her nape when it comes to reading him, but he hushedly says his goodbyes anyway, saying he should make the kids' dinner.

Leading a life in secrecy is easy, Jeno thinks. Coming out is where the trouble's at. His heart sinks a little at the thought of hiding; as he grew more comfortable within the skin he lives in, Jeno quickly realized that the right thing to do, the honest thing to do, is quite often the hardest one. Fighting shame is a day to day battle, and there is always space for losing once you learn how to do it - there is always a little more to hide once you convince yourself that whatever that it is in you is not present in your peers.

Mina walks into the kitchen like she always does, her hair pulled up in a pretty braid she insisted Jeno should do after Elsa from the Frozen movie. Kids' movies when you're a parent are hardly ever a bad experience, but Jeno is not passive enough to pretend they don't get annoying from time to time - especially the ones with songs, which are basically all of them, but musicals in question just aren't his thing. Heejin enjoys them more, so that's why she's the one taking them to the movies when a new one is released, but Jeno likes to tag along in his free time; sitting in silence at the dark can be basically one of his favorite hobbies by now given how much he does it.

Mina looks up at him, dead silent, and Jeno stares back, a little confused. They don't say anything for a few moments, not even moving, until his daughter breaks the silence by yelling "Into the unknown" at the top of her lungs, definitely not sounding the slightest bit like the original singer. Jeno jumps back in surprise, his hand flying to his chest, and Heejin all but sprints into the kitchen, worried.

"What was that?" she asks, looking at the both of them. Jeno is glued to the counter, a hand clutching his heart, and Mina stands before him, absurdly tiny in comparison to the 1,8m man in front of her, who despite his dimensions is still deathly scared by her sudden loudness. "What was that for? You almost killed your father!"

Mina laughs, her eyes forming two small crescents and her nose scrunching. Jeno's heart goes back to normal at the sight, melting into its usual butter-like softness. "Just wanted to say hi," she explains, giving them a toothy grin.

Jeno lets his shoulders drop, crouching down to pick Mina up and hoist her up in his arms, squeezing her to his chest. He moves his mouth closer to her ear, letting his voice get just a little louder as to not hurt her: "HI!" he says, watching as her entire face scrunches up in a wince, then unfolds in carefree laughter.

Heejin smiles and rolls her eyes, turning her back to them as she walks back into the living room. Kids are weird, Jeno thinks, but that's the best part about raising them - they don't know a lot about life, and so nothing is truly so bad to them, mainly because they can't put things in perspective. Jeno could tell Mina other people might find her weird if she just walks into a room to scream, but she wouldn't care; her reputation means nothing to her. She's a child and she doesn't know shame yet, but she will soon, no matter how much Jeno would like to keep her from it. He can only hope that, by the time people try and shame her into being someone else, she will trust him enough to tell him about it.

Raising a little girl is the constant worry of forgetting about her position in the world. Mina is still a kid, but she will stop being one soon enough, and Jeno knows there's only so much he can do to help her when it comes to the way young women are treated. Not only here, not only in this country, but anywhere she'll go, and maybe it'll be worse by then - she'll have a target on her back for her mother tongue, for her features, for her culture. How does one cope with that?

 _I don't,_ he thinks to himself, and he truly doesn't. Fear is a part of parenting quite as much as anything else, but he doesn't tell Mina that; he just hugs her tight, kissing the crown of her head. Maybe that's why he does what he does after all.

"Mina, can dad trust you with something?" he asks, whispering loud enough for only her ears to hear.

Mina perks up, looking back at him and nodding in silence, eyes growing huge at each second. She's always been curious, which is a blessing and a curse when you try to give your children enough privacy to go through their own quests in life, but Jeno will soon lose that glint of curiosity once she starts learning on her own, so every minute is precious here.

"You can't tell no one about it," Jeno warns, squeezing her small hand in agreement. She nods once again. "Not even your mom," he says, and her confidence stutters a little before she agrees.

"Okay," he starts, feeling his heart thump against his chest. Heejin is already helping Eric take a bath, so it's just the two of them downstairs, and Jeno somehow feels like he's doing something he is not supposed to do. "You know boys and girls, right?"

"Yeah," she answers, paying attention.

"Okay," Jeno repeats, mentally organizing his thoughts. "And you know that sometimes boys and girls fall in love, right? And they hold hands."

Mina nods again. "They do."

"Well…" he licks his lips, eyes darting to the door as if Heejin was about to stomp inside the room. She doesn't, so he continues: "Have you ever wondered if boys also fall in love with boys and girls also fall in love with girls?"

She cocks her head to the side, eyes squinting as if in thought. "I'm not sure if I've ever wondered about anyone falling in love with anyone."

Jeno chuckles, holding her a tiny bit closer. "Yeah, because you're six. But you will wonder about it soon," he says, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "But daddy is telling you this because I want you to know, by the time you start thinking about it, that liking someone is never wrong. And that everyone deserves love and respect. You know that, right?"

"I know that," Mina tells him, confused. "Why can't I tell mom about it?"

"I'm not finished," he says, settling her down on the counter to sit right in front of her, letting his hands rest on her bony knees. "Would you be okay with it if dad liked boys?" Jeno asks, the heaviness of his words weighing on the back of his throat.

"Just boys?" she asks, leaning back on her hands. She doesn't look negative about it, just curious.

"Well, boys _and_ girls," he answers, tracing patterns on her knees. "But right now… Just one boy."

Mina makes a face, cringing hard enough to make her face look funny. "Dad… Boys are gross."

Jeno laughs, shaking his head. Kids don't have a clue of what anything means, and to Mina, there is no problem except that boys are, in her own elementary school experience, gross.

"Sometimes," he half heartedly agrees. "But… Dad really likes this one. And I was scared that you'd stop liking me because he is a boy."

She forcefully shakes her head, throwing her twiggy arms around Jeno's neck to make her point known, squeezing hard. "I would never not like my dad!" Mina exclaims. "You're the bestest super hyper ultra dad ever and you're a boy. It's okay if you like boys! They aren't _all_ gross!"

Jeno knows she's trying to communicate to him that it's okay in her own inexperienced ways, but he can't help but laugh as she engulfs him in a hug, her childish attempt at comfort easing the knots in his heart. Mina doesn't know a lot of things yet, but Jeno trusts her to be respectful and protective towards her peers in the future, even if she is not similar to them herself. Or maybe she is, but there is no way of telling - maybe years from now she'll sit in this very kitchen and tell him the same thing Jeno just told her, but even then, that is too far from today. The only thing Jeno knows is that whatever happens, Mina will be kind. That's the best legacy he could've possibly left behind.

When she comes down from her indignation, she pulls back from the hug, studying Jeno carefully. "Who is the boy you like? Does mom know him? Do we know him? Is he nice? Is he gross? Is he pretty?"

"You don't know him, your mother does but barely, he _is_ nice, he is not gross, I think he's very good looking," he answers, smile growing bigger as he watches Mina try and form an image of Jaemin in her head.

"Do you want to hold hands with him?" Mina asks again, this time in a lower tone, like it's a middle school secret; like holding hands is something so intimate and shameful, but isn't it, really? For people like Jeno, it always feels like it is. "It's okay. You can tell me."

Jeno chuckles, squeezing her hand. "Yeah. I do want to hold his hand."

She nods in respect. "Okay. I won't tell anyone, dad."

Despite their distance, he leans over to press a kiss to her forehead, resuming the conversation by lifting her off the counter. "I know you won't," he tells her. "Dad loves you a lot. Don't forget."

Mina nods once again, hesitantly walking away to the living room to rightfully digest their conversation as Jeno comes back to cooking, head up in the clouds. He can't deny there is a lingering fear that Mina _is_ going to tell Heejin, even if not on purpose, and it'll ruin it all, but maybe that's what it takes to live life freely - maybe if she finds out by Mina's lips then it won't be so bad, and Jeno will finally be able to lift this off his shoulders. Still, there's no way of knowing now, so he tries to take his minds off of it by thinking about Jaemin's hands; Jaemin's hands which are boyish and clean, with short fingers and big palms. They're pianist hands nonetheless, and they poison Jeno's memory with the simplest thought of desire, like kerosene to a flame.

He almost chops a finger off by thinking of holding those hands, kissing them, having them wrap around and rest on his hips, shoulders, neck, jawline. Jeno doesn't think he ever knew desire like this - not to this extent, not with this intensity, not ever so ardently _._ He feels as if sighing to himself, a schoolgirl at best, scenarios flooding his mind. Jaemin's eyes, lips, nose, the slope of his Adam's apple, all of the small pieces that come together to form a man of so much dimension. Jeno can barely sugarcoat it; he's been on his knees for longer than he could remember. Running from it was never an option.

But then he's in bed, later at night, phone heavily weighing against his hand as he types out an answer to a text from Jaemin, and Jeno wonders how do people do this all the time. How they fall in and out of love, how they crack each other open then part ways to mend themselves just to find another one and do it all over again; he wonders how anyone manages it, and if they do it because it's the only thing they know.

And anyways, Jeno doesn't know loneliness, but maybe he does. Jeno doesn't know what it's like to live in a harmful repeating routine, but maybe he does - he just wonders if breaking out of it is a reward or a punishment.

 _Sometimes I think I wouldn't get along with the people in your life,_ he types, sending Jaemin a frowny sticker. It's silly, but Jeno doesn't want to think much of it; even texting can be tiring sometimes, when the lights are out and his eyelids are heavy as stones. _I think I just don't fit in. I'm too old to start to learn about gay culture._ It's not a lie, but saying he is too old still gives him the bad kind of shivers. How long has it been? Far too long to tell, as Jeno was just sixteen a few days ago.

 _No one is too old for anything,_ Jaemin answers, sending Jeno another frowny sticker in response. _And anyways, it's not all gay people that have known since forever. Some of us knew all along, some of us still don't know. Sometimes you learn about it at 70, for God's sake_.

Jaemin is an excited texter, and every topic seems to go over his head in how much he has to say about it. In that sense, they work well together - Jeno is not much of a talker, but listening and answering to instead of initiating conversation is something he can be a part of, instead of lifelessly dragging himself through awkward attempts at keeping up a subject. That's probably why they worked so well in college, then; if Jeno is quiet now, he can't even imagine how he was when he still could keep his shyness. He was probably a stone in terms of conversation, but Jeno guesses there was a charm to it; one enough to keep Jaemin in his life.

 _I guess so,_ Jeno mouths as he texts. _Being closeted is just scary._

Jaemin's answer comes a few seconds later. _Yeah, but it sure as hell isn't lonely! Imagine how many people around the world are closeted right now. That could probably be an entire country worthy of people in the closet._

He chuckles quietly, knowing the man was just trying to argue his sadness away. Jeno is thankful, he really is. _I'm not sure if I can still be with them, though._

 _Oh?_ Jaemin answers. Jeno can hear the oh in his voice, and the smile that comes out of that realization is sheepishly tender.

 _Came out to Mina today,_ he recalls. _She said boys are gross but other than that it's okay._

The other man sends him an infinity of green heart emojis, excitedly congratulating Jeno on working hard today. In some way he already knows, Jaemin's words wrap him in kind arms, gently patting him on his head and saying, _you did well._ Which, in Jeno language, means he can rest at ease knowing tomorrow is a promise. How blessed; how divine - how lucky Jeno is to be able to close his eyes and only see the image of a beautiful lover tattooed on his eyelids.

Heejin walks into the room, untangling the many knots on her hair with her fingers as she stands before the full body mirror on their closet door. She's ready for work already, cladded in her white jacket as she gives up on her hair and pulls it on a bun, pinning it behind. Jeno likes to watch her do these things - it makes him wonder what goes on in her head. Heejin inspects her face in the mirror, applying moisturizer over the pliant skin, and Jeno's eyes focus on her nape; what does he know about her?

Jeno doesn't know why it feels like Heejin has always been estranged from him, but it does. He can't even begin to fathom what her mind could be like. What would Heejin think if she knew about Jaemin? What would she say? Jeno doesn't know. A thing about family people don't often talk about is that, different from other relationships, it takes no knowing - you do love, but you don't know them as well as you think you do. It's their choice to actually let you in, but it goes implied that they don't have to; family is not friendship. Family is scarily stable and everlasting.

"I got a notification from the bank," Heejin starts as she notices Jeno's attention on her. "You went out to eat lunch during work for the first time in two years. They thought your card got cloned."

His breath hitches. She doesn't say anything else, leaning down to apply a layer of bright red lipstick over her lips, puckering them in front of the mirror.

Jeno gulps. "Yeah."

"That's nice," she smiles at him through the mirror, eyes crinkling gently around her cheeks. Heejin's chest is a baby pink, blushing sun, and Jeno is a mere cloud floating under it."What'd you eat?"

"A donut," he says, adjusting his glasses. "And, you know… Alcohol." It feels painfully awkward to say it, a wince coming to the back of his neck and creeping down his shoulders; Jeno is tense enough for it to count as working out.

Heejin notices his disturbance. "Jeno, I seriously don't mind it." She pulls two strands of hair out of her bun, making it so they frame her face. "I'm happy you're seeing someone."

 _Someone._ Who does Heejin even think it is? The idea of Jeno having the same encounter he had with Jaemin with someone else brings him immense discomfort, the mere image of another person in Jaemin's seat making him frown openly. He doesn't answer her, letting his eyes rest on his phone once again.

"You know," she turns around, settling her hands on her waist. "A lot of children have divorced parents. It's really no big deal, right?" But Heejin sounds like she's trying to convince herself of it instead of asking for Jeno's agreement, and he realizes that's how most of their conversations are; they're talking to themselves under the same roof and calling it communication.

"I suppose not," Jeno mumbles, fumbling with his sleeve. Heejin looks at him with a hint of pity, pursing her lips and all, and he's not quite sure of what to say next. There is nothing about their situation that feels comfortable.

Jeno thinks of coming out in this exact moment. He could just blurt it - a clear, loud " _I'm bisexual"_. He could yell it, even, because Mina and Eric are sound asleep and show no sign of changing that; he could look into her eyes and say it. Simply say it, like it's anything but a string of words, like it doesn't mean anything at all... But it always does. Stepping out into the word and baring yourself for someone else's eyes to see are acts of great courage, and they can make even the strongest crumble under the fear of being rejected, judged, abandoned. Coming out is no easy task, much less a joke. Jeno doesn't have the nerves for that.

"And we'll still be friends," Heejin continues. She's trying to shed light on their situation, as she does, and Jeno feels impossibly guilty about lying to her. "I know that. I don't blame you for anything, you know? I'm seriously happy for you."

He presses his lips into a thin line, keeping himself from blurting out the words he's been dying to say. Jeno hums, but it doesn't feel enough - instead, it feels like he's been waiting for too long. Like the clock is ticking, like the world is alive, like Jeno needs to finally _say_ something to _mean_ something.

His breathing fails him, and too many images cross his brain; faceless figures of all the people who had come before him, the people who had no choice but to step out of the closet, the people who didn't got to say it, the people who were out before they even knew, the people who had always walked around with targets on their backs. Jeno is none of them, but is that true? Has he not suffered enough, cried enough, lost enough, lied enough, too? Doesn't his history deserve to be heard just as much as anyone else's?

He remembers a sticker Jaemin has in his car. _Come out, come out, wherever you are_ , it read in pink bright colors, contrasting against a yellow background that popped up over the black paint. He thinks about the codes, the language, the implied, the subversive, and all of the many ways people had to come out before coming out was acceptable enough to be a thing; all of the systems people like him used to let others know they were walking among friends. And then Jeno thinks about Jaemin's bar, back in downtown Seoul, filled to the brim with people who would never be seen in the same neighborhood he is right now - people who have lost everything, people who never had anything in the first place, people from all over the world; no two are the same. Jeno owes it to himself to join them.

"Can you… I need to talk to you. Do you have anything to do tomorrow?" he asks, biting down on his bottom lip.

Heejin turns her head around, lipstick still in hand. "Oh, if it can't wait, we can talk about it now. I only clock in in like… Half an hour." She offers him a smile, cocking her head to the side.

 _I can do this,_ Jeno thought to himself. Then: _And even if I can't, I have to._

"Come here." He sits up in bed, straightening his back against the headboard, and taps the space in front of him, Heejin's steps echoing on his mind as she does what she's told.

Jeno closes his eyes for a second, sighing deeply, and he's met with a smiling Heejin once he reopens them, her face clear and steady like the pouring rain. There is some type of childish nostalgia on them that mirrors the one Jaemin and him have, which is absurd when he comes to think about it. Right now, the image of Heejin sitting cross legged in front of him is the sharp end of a knife that he can't either sink deeper or pull out - the memory of a life he has long before said goodbye to, the anxious rush of the unknown that is to come. It's a grieving sigh, the ending credits, the last five minutes of graduating; _the end._ She looks at him expectantly, and Jeno goes through the five stages of grief in the matter of seconds.

"I need to tell you something," Jeno tells her, swallowing around a dry throat. "And I don't know… If it's important at all, and I don't know what you think of it, but… Yeah. I've grown too tired of keeping it."

Heejin doesn't say anything, nodding her head in understanding. Jeno feels himself letting go of his expectations before he even starts, the empty space between words giving him the drive to both prepare and comfort himself at the same time. That's the thing about life - you can't take it back. Once you start out, you have to keep racing. "You know me. You've known me since you were a little girl. I mean - I'm friends with your dad," he reasons before she even discloses her judgment, before he even gives her a reason to, and Heejin's eyes sparkle with confusion. "Okay. What I'm trying to say is…" Jeno breathes in, closing his eyes once again; it's easier if she's not here. "I'm bisexual, Heejin. And the person I'm seeing is a man. You like it or not."

It feels freeing once it happens. It feels like he's been waiting and waiting and all of the waiting just crumbled to his feet, right where Jeno can see it. For that one second after the words come out of his mouth, Jeno is truly free - a man of no city, a man of no homeland, a man of no belongings. There's a common misconception that coming out makes you _belong_ \- Jeno doesn't agree with that. If he were to describe it, he'd say coming out is more like retaliating against, like running free, like breaking shackles; he feels as though as he was born right in the doorway, the past behind him disintegrating. It feels like coming home to yourself.

He opens his eyes, being met with Heejin's blushy face, her expression stoic. Her eyes are wide, though the rest of her face is dipped in scarily accurate indifference, frozen into place. Jeno is about to get defensive, riding the high of his relief and asking her what her problem is, when she opens her mouth to murmur: "That's okay."

Jeno blinks. "I know," he says, but his tone comes out dazed, confused. He _knows_ it's okay, but the tension of his heart unfolds once he knows Heejin shares that thought. Sometimes you don't know how much approval you need until you have it.

She gives him a closed mouth smile. "Does anybody else know?"

"Do you not want anybody else to know?" he asks, eyes growing considerably larger in doubt. Jeno might be a little paranoid.

"It's not my place to tell you who should or shouldn't know," Heejin says, her smile faltering. She reaches out a hand, awkwardly patting Jeno's knee; it's an attempt at softness he would always be grateful for. "I love and support you." She looks up at him carefully. "You've given me endless reasons to love you, and they don't change or expire with time; you're my family, Jeno, and-"

"And family we love," Jeno completes it for her, letting his face soften. "I know. I understand."

Heejin sighs in relief. "I know you understand. And I want you to be able to yell it out if you want to." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I got your back, Jeno. I mean… We all do. Me, Mina, Eric. We got you."

Then it's Jeno's time to flash her a grin, gently letting his hand meet Heejin's on his knee. He laces their fingers together, feeling the warmth of her palms against his own. She's out of this world, Heejin; no one is ever so kind. "I know," he says, squeezing her hand. "Thank you."

They sit in silence for a minute, hands clasped together, and Jeno ponders on how lucky he is - how surrounded he is of people who do great things, people who are smart and kind and have it rub off on him; people who make Jeno like himself better every time they're around.

"Do you plan on introducing him to the kids?" Heejin asks out of the blue. "I mean, if it's serious."

Jeno thinks about it for a second, letting his mind drift to images of Jaemin in his living room, cuddled up to Eric. But not just that - Jaemin doing Mina's hair, Jaemin cooking for them, Jaemin playing a round of Monopoly, Jaemin all over this place. It feels too good to be true, mainly because Jeno didn't think it was possible to have it a few minutes ago. His heart stirs, interested. "I mean…" he smiles lovingly. "Maybe."

But it's not your usual _maybe._ It's the one that drips cheekiness, the one plunged from the earth, the one that implies it actually means _yes._ Jeno giggles in his head, but deems it too silly to do it out loud; Heejin doesn't need to know the extent of his adoration, because he himself can't believe it. This is not love - this is something else, because love has never felt like this.

Heejin smiles back; amazed. "Bring him here when you want, Jeno. I mean it."

"Maybe I will," he looks down shyly, completely out of character for him. Jaemin messes Jeno up, point blank and simple.

They talk a bit more about him before Heejin goes to work, Jeno carefully watering down a few of the thoughts in his head so they feel more appropriate. She seems genuinely interested and supportive, which makes him want to cry for a moment - not just out of relief, but also for the deep, deep insecurities inside of him that somehow convinced Jeno that Heejin, the kindest person he knows, would ever turn her back on him. It's insane how a few words can change his world forever, how many doors can be opened through one minute of drunken braveness, how the world finds a way to make every part of the web meet at least once before it bends and breaks.

When she leaves, he spends a few minutes nearing his bedroom window, gazing at the quiet life unfolding in their neighborhood. Now it's time for bigger decisions - for asking himself what does he want, where does he want it, and how will he get it. His entire life will change based on today, and there's always a spiking fear behind his ear that tells him he should hurry before his train leaves, but Jeno lets wonder take its place. This is it; this is what he yearned so long for, what he stressed so ardently about, what he feared for far too long. It feels silly now, how he dreaded so desperately over five minutes of conversation, but that only means the worst is behind him.

 _When is it the time to leave?_ he asks himself. It always is. There is always something new to see.

But as he sinks back under his duvet, he thinks it's okay to stay as long as there are people worth staying for.

Jaemin's life is a whole lot more agitated - and no less complicated - than Jeno's is.

They've been trying to meet up again, but their schedules don't seem to exist around the fact that they're working towards the greater goal of _actually_ dating in a casual way. Jeno doesn't even know what that means, but Jaemin says it's like getting to know someone for the first time; which implies that both their slates are clean, meaning they're once again strangers. _Strangers with a past,_ Jaemin had corrected him, though he changed the subject quickly enough after that. It seems that conversation comes naturally to Jaemin, given how he sways and swirls around topics with impressive ability, not allowing things to get awkward. Jeno supposes that's also a way of keeping his distance, but he can't blame Jaemin for it - intimacy works in strange, strange ways, and awkwardness is the front door to any meaningful feeling; to anything worth doing.

So their second meet up counts as a their first date, which translates to _getting to know each other._ Jeno doesn't mind the talking - at least not in the moment, though the before is always somewhat harder. Truth being told, it's not like he doesn't have anything to share; it's just never something as impressive as Jaemin has. Talking to him is an experience - one that makes Jeno realize how standardized life has been to him for the past years, despite the ups and downs. It hurts his pride, of course, but it's in the newness that burns behind Jaemin's eyes that he feels at home, and Jeno is often so interested he feels as though as he accidentally forgot himself in Jaemin's presence even when he hasn't left the house at all.

Technology is also something he is deeply grateful for. Were they in older times Jeno would never have spent hours texting Jaemin, wouldn't even know about him so instantly; like that, the distance and the schedule conflicts don't seem half as bad. There is always a contrast between their ways, between their backgrounds, between their clothing, but it's safe to say that Jeno has never been so open to someone else's differences before.

So when he's sitting at the passenger seat in Jaemin's parked car as they wait in front of a police station, Jeno doesn't mind it much. Jaemin is lying in the back seat, head adjacent to the driver's seat as they wait, the radio burping out a pop song that's been hitting the parades lately; Jeno doesn't recognize it, but Jaemin taps his feet to the beat, impatient. One of his friends got arrested during a protest, and Jaemin dropped everything to come get him, inviting Jeno to come with as he was sure he'd have to wait for at least a few hours until his friend is released from under police custody.

Jeno watches as he mumbles a few lawyers' numbers for the sake of remembrance, eyes lost on the ceiling.

"Are they going to let him go with a fine?" he asks, settling his back against the seat. It's Saturday, and before he got this call he was scrubbing slime from the kitchen floor as a very sorry Eric looked down at him with a pout, profusely apologizing for having made a mess. Jeno doesn't even know how these can glue down on the floor so powerfully, but it wasn't a big enough deal to be annoyed about the mess; he just kissed the boy's hand and told him to be more careful next time. It seemed to be enough.

"I don't know," comes out of Jaemin's mouth. He seems thoughtful, but otherwise not so worried, which makes Jeno believe that this is a recurring issue with him. Being arrested at a protest - Jeno wants to know why, or how, but something tells him it's not the type of protest he is used to. "I think so. They usually do," he sighs, not letting his eyes stray from the car ceiling. "Doesn't it fuck you up that 'being let out with a fine' is just another way of saying that you can do anything if you're rich?"

Jeno hums in agreement, but doesn't elaborate on it. He's scared of saying the wrong thing, so he usually just agrees with whatever Jaemin has to say; he seems to know better.

The man glances up at him, eyes softening once he sees Jeno's face. "I'm sorry if this is boring," Jaemin says, pressing his lips together. "But this is part of my life," he blurts out, as if reasoning himself. "I mean… I guess I wanted you to know."

Jeno hums again, not knowing what to say. He's afraid Jaemin is going to think he's upset, though, so he speaks up: "It's a little boring, but relaxing in some way. I don't get a lot of silent moments in life; I miss them."

His answer makes the man chuckle, turning on his side to stare at Jeno. Jaemin's bicep comes to rest under his ear, his smile nothing short of thrilling. He's shaped like a haunted house, in a sense - Jeno never knows what he'll get, and so being surprised becomes the norm. Jaemin is unpredictable, but maybe it's another painful reminder of the time that they passed apart.

"You're still such a nerd," he muttered, slightly shocked. "I remember once you said your favorite sound in the word was a teacup settling into its place holder. Is that still true?"

Jaemin is wearing a black sweatshirt today, stamped with a band Jeno doesn't know. He looks good, but today it's just how Jeno likes it: dressed down, slightly tired, comfortable. There is something about the beauty that stays once the dolling up fades that makes Jeno shiver under his own shirt, the aftermath of the day creating a very specific type of fucked up attractiveness that Jaemin carries within him ever so effortlessly. The corner of his eyes have smudges of eyeliner and mascara on them, but Jaemin himself isn't wearing any as it seemed to wear out through the day, in order that Jeno feels a little closer to him than he was before.

"No," Jeno answers, crossing his legs. "Now it's the sound of a library book being put back in its shelf."

Jaemin laughs, eyes glued on Jeno's posture. He knows he looks just like a dad does right now, in a polo shirt and washed out blue jeans, but he didn't have the time to get dressed up; Jaemin gave him five minutes.

They stay quiet for a few more moments before the man chimes up again. "Mine's the sound of a wedding," he confides, eyes averting from Jeno like it's the biggest secret in the world. "I know it's cheesy, but sometimes we host weddings at the bar, and there's always a small murmur before it starts. I like that. I think it sounds…" Jaemin takes a pause, cringing at his next words. "Magical."

Jeno thinks it's cute, but he won't dare to say it. Instead, he opts on offering: "Do you wanna play 21 questions?"

It feels childish and juvenile, as life often does, but that's something Jeno gave up on controlling. His coworkers always tell him that - _you're boyish, Jeno,_ but in a tone that doesn't make it seem like it's a bad thing. Instead, it just makes him feel younger; as if time had stopped for a second.

"Okay," to his surprise, Jaemin agrees, his stare fixed in him. "You go first."

Jeno blushes, but obeys. He thinks about it for a second, then asks: "If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, who would it be? And why?"

The other man hums, sitting up against the car door, letting his head hit the window. Jeno doesn't believe anyone can be comfortable in that position, but then again, Jaemin is a quite peculiar person. "Park Geun-hye," he answers, nodding his chin towards Jeno. "Because I like to know about cults, and I've always wanted to have dinner with a president."

"I voted for her last election," he mentions offhandedly, leaning against the car door to make eye contact. "I didn't like anyone but I didn't want to throw a vote away."

Jaemin smiles approvingly. "Good boy." At that, Jeno looks down, eyes widening and cheeks reddening, but the man doesn't mention it any further. Instead, he continues: "Okay, my turn: Would you like to be famous? Why?"

 _Good boy_ burns into his skin like a gold infused tattoo, and Jeno believes these are the words supposed to be written on his stone when he dies, but he doesn't let it show; Jaemin is already cocky as it is, there is no need for ego stroking.

He answers it in a heartbeat. "No. I'd hate it. My dream in life is to die as secluded from everything as possible."

"Like in a cottage?" the other man asks, interested. "We're talking living-in-the-middle-of-nowhere seclusion? Just you and green fields?"

"Yeah," Jeno agrees, looking out of the window in thought. Then he turns around and adds: "Well, not just me. A lot of cats."

"A lot of cats?" Jaemin repeats with a smile, clicking his tongue. "No husband? No wife?"

"I- I mean…" He painfully stutters, awkwardly forcing a cough to keep himself from doing it again. His heart drops to his knees, but there's no need to be nervous, right? Jaemin is just joking around. "Well… I don't know…"

 _No husband?_ is a good thing to say, it seems, because Jeno's entire body seems to flutter awake in interest like the speeding up of a bird's wings, the idea of a husband shaking him up to his very core. Jaemin says it with naturality because it's just so common to him, but it means a whole lot to Jeno; more than he could ever explain. This is the first time anyone has ever spoken about him being with men so openly.

"Tsk, Jeno, you're good looking and you act like you aren't," Jaemin says, unfolding his legs and letting them cover the entire passenger seat. They're long - longer than life even, and Jeno makes a point out of looking away, trying not to get carried away from the tone of Jaemin's voice. _Pay attention,_ he tells himself. "Of course there'll be someone."

Jeno looks up to the ceiling, feeling his heart speed up. Perhaps being locked in a car with Jaemin isn't the best of ideas - not when he's out to get him, teeth sharp around words that stick to his conscience like bubblegum underneath a school desk. The space they're confined in suddenly feels too small, too filled with Jaemin, and Jeno is trying not to breath him in completely; he's trying to slowly ease himself into the heavy quietness, but his body won't let him when it's so greedy for the attention, for the compliments, for the flirting.

Maybe Jeno should just let himself be.

"Are you applying?" he asks, feeling his dignity levels sprint lower and lower at the cringy attempt of flirting back. He's just _not good at it_ , but maybe it's because he hasn't had many opportunities to practice before; it's been quite a while.

Even then, Jaemin smiles playfully, all shiny like a brand new dress. "Maybe I am."

And maybe he is. Jaemin may not directly say it, but Jeno knows well enough.

They talk for at least two hours until hunger strikes, the easily affordable afternoon sun melting into heavy evening blues, exhaustion brimming around Jeno's eyes and across his face, as though his skin is made from the impermeable pulling of the tide. It's been too long since he last had a first date, but it's been longer since he exhausted himself out of talking alone. At some point, he starts to not even attempt at making sense, letting his chin rest on the car seat as he stares right into Jaemin, eyes droopy.

"And I seriously just think… I'm too old for this type of stuff," he mumbles, watching as Jaemin contorts himself in the backseat to try and crack his back, the consequences of sitting uncomfortably finally catching up to him. "I'm just too old to be doing this."

"But you are," Jaemin comments, his own voice growing drowsy, perhaps even lower; if it's possible.

"But I am!" Jeno agrees, nodding his head. "I am. But at my age this is the equivalent of riding my dirty bike to your house and throwing pebbles at your window," he explains, fiddling with his collar.

"That's a very romantic scenario," the man slightly pouts, eyes getting brighter, rounder. "College you would've done that for me."

And there's a certain type of pride in knowing someone can tell how much you love them, but there's also the lingering chill of being easily controlled through it. Jaemin has the power to rend him oh so weak, and Jeno knows it; Jeno would do everything he could ever want if he said it like that.

"Now me would've done that for you," he blurts out, because there is no reason not to. Jaemin already _knows_ that Jeno is a sucker and that he'll humiliate himself over and over again for love if it'll be anything short of meaningful at the end of the day. Jaemin knows, and so Jeno becomes.

"Would you?" Jaemin asks, crossing his arms, but he knows. Jeno would've followed him right into the busy traffic had he asked - he would've done way worse.

He nods, and his throat vibrates around the sound of his agreement. "Mhmm."

Jeno knows he has nothing else to keep after today, and that he's gotten as vulnerable as it gets, but at least his heart is happy about it. Jaemin makes him sore right in the middle of his chest, somewhere deeper than just skin and muscles; it makes Jeno want to weep, but God, it's so good. It's so good. He's proudly on his knees, like calf patiently waiting for slaughter.

Jaemin uncrosses his arms, leaning closer and closer to Jeno until they're face to face, so close their noses could just touch; so close there is no world but the way Jaemin's cupid bow forms around his front teeth. He is too much and not enough, never enough, and Jeno doesn't _know._ Jeno has never known romance, has never known intimacy like this - even at thirty, he feels so inexperienced. It's to the point Jeno knows that if he didn't remember his life up until now, he'd believe this is the first anyone has ever paid attention to him.

"You should come visit me at the bar sometime," Jaemin says, his voice lower than a whisper. It comes out scratchy, dreamy; Jeno found himself agreeing before he even knew what it was. "It would be an honor."

 _Oh,_ Jeno thinks to himself in agony. _To be inside a car with a beautiful boy._

"I will," he whispers, eyes zeroing on Jaemin's lips. Sometimes you want something so much you can't even bear to image what it would feel like without losing a part of your mind in the process. Sometimes you want something so much you can't even bear to imagine it, because you know that it would make it worse.

"I know," the man answers, eyes not once leaving Jeno's - especially when they stare down. "We should get something to eat," he whispers, though he doesn't move, though he doesn't let air come between them. Though Jaemin's eyes don't let go of Jeno, not even for a second.

"Yeah." Jeno purses his lips. The man in front of him is as pretty as they come; he can't be judged. God will absolve him of his sins when He finds out it was over Jaemin they were committed.

"Yeah," Jaemin agrees.

_Yeah._

The funny thing about life is that, even in moments where you're at your limit, even in moments where you're about to burst, even when you're sure that if something doesn't happen right now you'll die in this instant, you continue to live. You continue to breathe, your blood still roars red and warm, and the knots in your stomach eventually untie themselves. Maybe it's the need to keep going, the addiction to life, maybe it's everything mashed up together. The only true desire is to live, Jeno believes, but Jaemin comes dangerously close.

They stand together in a fast food line like the last few moments have not went down, but they had. He stares at Jaemin's nape before him like he's trying to figure out what he's made of, and if Jeno had to guess, he'd say it's something quite like blood; the thickness of existence, the naturality of hands that fit on opening thighs. Jaemin is braided into his DNA, it seems. There is no reasonable way out. He insists that they should eat in the car to be able to keep an eye in the station in case his friend walks out of it, and Jeno is too stunned to disagree. He wonders if it gets easier with time, if it stops shaking him up once he gets used to it; it probably does. It should. It would be unfair if it didn't.

So there he was, dipping french fries in ketchup at the back of someone else's car as a R&B song plays in the radio, and Jaemin babbles on about a TV drama Jeno doesn't watch. This wouldn't feel like a date back in the day, but it is, now - it is because there's the underlying shyness, the expectation in the space between words, the careful touch of two hands trying their hardest to find each other. Jaemin doesn't seem to know it yet, but Jeno is falling in love; all over again, in a way he forgot how to. It's funny how easily you can slip into old habits.

"I think I haven't been on a first date for the last seven years," Jeno confides on him, neatly pulling out his burger from its package. The napkins are folded under it, and the french fries are still in the bag as to not make a mess, the same way he'd do it if it were Mina or Eric's orders rather than his own. Jaemin, on the other hand, hasn't wasted any time organizing, which is probably the remarkable difference between a person with small children at home and a person with none.

Either way, he chuckles. "Well, what were my rates?" comes out of his mouth through a handful of fries. "They're not usually like this. People don't usually have first dates in front of the police station."

"Yeah, I figured," he smiles, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "It's enjoyable nonetheless."

"You're a dad," Jaemin laughs, this time a full laugh, throwing his head back. _How could someone not miss you at all?_ "You're such a dad. It's so cute. I just want you to tell me that you're proud of me."

Jeno laughs too, turning around and leaning his cheek against his closed fist. "I'm proud of you," he mutters, staring at him with smiling eyes.

"Yeah, you are," the man answers bashfully, taking a bite out of his burger and avoiding eye contact. His hands are a little red - Jeno wonders if Jaemin blushes through them, and suddenly there is a relentless urge to go on and grab one of his hands, to let his fingers cascade down his palms and between his knuckles. He hums through his soda: "I shouldn't keep you for so long. I'm sure your kids miss their dad."

He knows Jaemin is calling it a night, but he doesn't feel as desperate as he felt when he left the last time they met. This time, it feels as if something clicked into place; as if the desire that once was blurry became clear. Jeno will miss this night, but he'll survive with the prospect that there will be many other nights, and many other afternoons, and hopefully many other mornings - all the time he can get with Jaemin, he will happily take.

But he is tired, and he does miss his kids, and fast food makes his stomach feel funny; Jeno eats homemade meals every day, in order that McDonald's feels like eating straight up oil with flour. It's good, though - he just didn't realize how long it's been since he spent a Saturday away from his family. If he were to be honest, he misses the little things, like Mina's squeaky voice and Eric's squishy arms, but Jaemin's boyish hands are a good contender for Jeno's favorite things on Earth.

"I miss them," he says, pointedly trying to avert his eyes from Jaemin's hands. "But what about your friend?"

The man sighs. "You can go. If he hasn't been let out until now then it'll probably happen tomorrow morning. I'll pull an all-nighter here, so you should really go get some rest."

Despite himself and his usual drive for negligence towards rest, Jeno frowns at the thought of Jaemin spending the night in the backseat of a locked car, uncomfortable and probably prone to danger. "Why don't you just go home?"

"Because," Jaemin starts, taking a bite out of his burger. "I don't know when he'll be freed. It can happen in the late, late dawn, and I don't want him to walk home alone after being in police custody. I want to be there for him the moment he walks out."

"But is it worth being exposed to danger?" Jeno asks, eyebrows knitted together in worry. Jaemin is so nonchalant about it.

Is that how Heejin feels about him? If so, it's terrible. Jeno doesn't want her to feel like this ever again.

"Oh, say less," the man laughs bitterly. "Yes, it is. You don't know what it's like because you're never going to have any problems with the police. But the people around me - they're constantly in and out of trouble. And there's nothing more dehumanizing than being arrested for protesting. Do you understand? He's going to come out of that station angry, or sad, or humiliated, or all three, and I'll be here for him when it happens. End of story."

Now, it's true that Jeno doesn't necessarily have the profile for someone who has troubles with the police, but it doesn't mean he's blindly accepting of everything they do. The people around Jaemin are activists out of necessity, and so this situation is common to him, but Jeno doesn't know what it's like. Jeno just knows about Jaemin, and about how he desperately wants him to be well, which doesn't seem like enough to go against his unrelenting loyalty towards the people in his life. Jaemin is too kind, too devoted - Jeno can't blame him for that. He can only assume that he knows a thing or two because he's seen a thing or two.

If it was one of his children, he'd spend the night too. In that sense, they're pretty much the same.

"Okay," he reaches out to pat Jaemin's arm, gently letting his palms run through the fabric of his sweatshirt. "But call me if you need anything, okay? And don't forget to park somewhere safer."

Jaemin presses his lips in a thin line, moving his own hand towards Jeno's and placing it over his. "Don't worry. I do this at least once every two months."

That makes him flinch. "Is it that bad?" Jeno asks, but his voice comes out small and soft, given Jaemin's hand on top of his. It feels like a breathing, living thing sitting atop of Jeno's skin; like a butterfly, and he refuses to make any sudden moves in order to not scare it. He'd sooner eat his own arm than lose that contact.

"Yeah, but it's okay," Jaemin gives him a closed mouth smile. "I can't do that type of thing anymore. I have people depending on me here."

And Jeno knows that, but he wonders who - is it Donghyuck, Jaemin's longtime close friend? Is it the people who come to see him at his bar? Is it someone else entirely?

"I know," he smiles softly nonetheless. Jeno knows.

Fast forward and he is sitting in the passenger seat as Jaemin drives him home, his head resting against the car window. The world around them passes by like dandelions blowing in the wind, quickly and then not at all; Jeno is enthralled by it, by the fast coming of time and the gentle flinch of the future before it settles as an easy to swallow present. Time is irrelevant to him, Jeno thinks - so many years apart weren't able to shake his feelings in the slightest. Time is wrestling with his memory, clogging his mind, but Jeno rises above effortlessly when it comes to unchanging devotion. He would've loved Jaemin today as much as he would've loved him five, six, seven years from now.

He looks at him through the corner of his eye, though, and it's like falling in bed after a rough day, like the gentle sound of a lyre, like honey and tea against a background full of green fields. How can he grieve the past when Jaemin is right here, with him, and doesn't show any sign of going away? How can Jeno think God doesn't walk beside him when he has everything he had ever wanted in one lithe body, same one that is driving him home after spending the entire day with him?

"And we're here," Jaemin announces as he parks right in front of Jeno's house, the nighttime lights like a halo around his face. It's Jaemin in his boring suburban neighborhood, and he's still just as beautiful as ever; maybe even more.

"We are," Jeno agrees, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels himself growing. He didn't think it would be hard to leave Jaemin, but it always is.

He considers taking something from his car just to make Jaemin come get it back tomorrow, but it seems childish and desperate; not that Jeno isn't either of these things. "You're an angel for today, you know that, right?" Jaemin starts, his brown hair a mess from the wind. It feels as if he's dragging the moment to its very last breath, and Jeno loves him for that. "I don't think I know anyone else who would come sit in a car with me for the entire afternoon."

"Yeah…" He shyly scratches his nape, not knowing what to say without making it sound too much. "Yeah, well… Call me anytime."

The man reaches out a hand to rest on Jeno's thigh, smiling kindly. "I will," he says, the moment dissolving softly at the tip of his tongue. Jeno knows it's ending already, disintegrating around its edges, and he misses it dearly. "Wait, I think you forgot something!" Jaemin says, calling his attention.

"What is it?" Jeno asks, cocking his head to the side.

"This!" he seems to look for something in his jeans pocket, and Jeno focuses on trying to think of what he could've possibly forgot until Jaemin's lips are pressed to the corner of his own, a loud sound of smacking lips teasing him as he pulls away. The man smiles: "Now you can go. Goodnight, Jeno."

That's when Jeno knows it's too late to turn back now. As he walks inside his house, there's a huge margin of chance that he forgot himself back in Jaemin's car. It could happen.

Jeno thinks Jaemin would be a blessing to come home to. He thinks he'd be beautiful, gorgeous, shining under the light of a home, the softness of his face welcoming Jeno to _come on in, you belong here_ , but he also thinks Jaemin would not want to be anyone's husband anytime soon. It's something he can live with - Jeno thinks love is a family because that is the only love he's ever experienced, but there's no way of knowing if Jaemin would accept to be so intertwined with someone in that sense. He's young; he doesn't have to settle down yet, and it's hard to even conceptualize a Jaemin that is home by seven, cooking for kids and floating around the room like wine swirling in a glass.

But Jeno is already so attached. He'd sooner be Jaemin's on and off friend with benefits than to lose him due to a conflict of interests, because that is how willing he is to make _this_ work, in any shape or form. Jeno could not give up on family life, but he could make a place between that and work to accommodate Jaemin, to nest him somewhere along the lines of time and make sure he is kept safe.

Either way, he is still standing on his front door, heart in his hands, ready to run an entire mile to try and catch up with Jaemin's car. Jeno doesn't want people to mistake him as someone who _enjoys_ being this infatuated with a person - it's humiliating and it's pathetic and it leaves him to suffer under the pressure of his own emotions, hands cupping his own face as he slides to the floor, back glued to his front door. Jeno wants to scream on his hands, wants to breathe so deeply he exhales all of the feelings he can't control, wants to punch a hole through his own bones and tear Jaemin out of there by force.

So much changed because of him, and he can't go back no matter the effort - not now, not later, not ever. Jaemin rocked all of his deepest perceptions of himself and the world around him, and the worst is that Jeno doesn't really resent it. He doesn't wish for anything in the world so much as that Jaemin is delicate with him, because he knows he'll need it once the time is upon them; Jeno is far too shaken up to be met with rough love. _I've given up too much to not have what I want, Universe._

He must've made some noise, though, because not much later the door behind his back is unlocked, and Heejin's voice meets his ears.

"Come on in, Jeno," she says, gently nudging his lower back with her foot. "It's dangerous out here."

It's not. This neighborhood is as quiet and monotonous as can be, and nothing ever happens here. The most dangerous occurrence that went down in this place was when a group of teenagers almost crashed a car into Jeno's lawn, but even then he didn't care much - they were all kids, and the car just barely scratched his mailbox, but their parents insisted Jeno should let them fix it as a punishment. They did, and now the coat of paint on his mailbox is uneven, which makes it somehow worse than it was before.

"I'm fine," he answers, even though that was not what was asked. Heejin does that - when she tells you to take care, it translates to _are you okay?,_ because she won't bring herself to ask it otherwise.

"You don't look fine," she scratches the back of Jeno's head, kindly not adding anything else to that sentence.

And it's not like he couldn't confide in Heejin, but rather that he's still self conscious about everything else that went on between them. In some way, Jeno can't help but feel guilty about the fact that Heejin lost a husband over his selfishness, and that no amount of sugar coating will make it better. It's almost as if she wasted all of these years on him, and now Jeno doesn't know how to give them back, doesn't know how to make it better.

"I know," Jeno agrees, sighing. Nothing is so bad he can't fix it, but there's too much going on in his mind for him to even start addressing it. "I'm tired," and that is the truth. Jeno is exhausted; from everything. Life just keeps on going, and everything happens so much - he just wishes it could stop for a minute.

"I'll make you some tea," Heejin offers. Then she adds, after a bit of silence: "The kids asked about you today."

"Yeah?" he asks, letting his shoulders drop, feeling his own defenses start to crumble under the weight of Heejin's stare. He's too tired of fighting against her attempts of taking care of him.

"Yeah," she agrees, sitting beside him on the doorway after noticing Jeno won't move anytime soon. The moon is bright tonight, but it always is; that hasn't changed yet. "I told them you were out with someone you really like. Mina asked if it was a boy and she looked very guilty afterwards."

Despite himself, Jeno is quick to say: "I came out to her before I came out to you. I hope that's okay."

Heejin rests a hand on his bent knee, patting it softly. "Of course it is, Jeno," she blows to the wind, quiet as a ghost. "I just wish you would've trusted me sooner to have done it, and I'm terribly sorry for not having been open enough about it to make you feel safe to come out to me."

"It's not that," he sighs again, feeling the tiredness wear him out a little more. In Greek mythology, Atlas held the entire world on his shoulders; Jeno now understands why. "It's not that you weren't open enough. It was just… Complicated."

"I know, but… Will you forgive me for that?" Heejin turns around to stare holes into him, relentless. The night air curls under her nose and above her upper lip, right and merciful. "If I could do it again knowing what I know now I would."

The thing about being in Jeno's position is that you always want to be asked for forgiveness. Years of hiding, years of shame and fear are often justified by that simple sentence - an "I'm sorry, I didn't know", or "I'm sorry, I wish I did better". It gives you the power to accept or reject; it makes you own the past that has kept you locked inside the closet for so long. Right now, Jeno doesn't believe Heejin has anything to be sorry for, but maybe she has. It's in the small comments, the silent judgment, the lack of acknowledgement; all of these things that seem so much bigger than what they are once you see them through a lock.

"I forgive you," comes in a heartbeat. Because he does, he truly does, and he didn't know how much he needed that apology until he got it. Perhaps it's true that forgiveness is the front door to healing, and this feels like it seals it completely; like Heejin and Jeno are somewhat a bit more closer than they were before. "Thank you for saying that. It really, _really,_ " Jeno grabs her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Means a lot to me. More than you know."

There isn't quite anything that comes close to hearing "I wish I would've done better". Jeno has spent so many waking moments thinking about the little bad things that accumulated through these past years, and to know Heejin would change them if she could is enough to make him forget about it. To know she acknowledges and regrets it, to know she cares about the consequences of it - Jeno is already happy just by that. He doesn't need anything else.

Heejin smiles, and he wants to say that she's just an angel, and that she's the closest he has to a best friend, and that she gave him two reasons to always keep on going, but the words don't find his lips. Jeno will never know enough to explain how grateful he is to Heejin; he needs to trust that she knows.

They sit in silence for a few moments, until Heejin speaks up again. "How is he now?"

"Who?" Jeno asks, turning his head back to look at her.

A sprout of a smile grows into her lips. "Jaemin," she clarifies.

"Oh," he shyly avoids her eyes. Jeno knows he looks stupid, but he can't help it at this point. "He's fine. Has a bar downtown," comes out of his mouth shortly. He doesn't know how to talk about Jaemin without letting his feelings cascade down his tongue, so moderation is key.

"Come on, Jeno," Heejin scoffs, resting her head on her closed fist as she stares right into his core. The night hugs her hair deliciously, making it look like Heejin's dark locks belong nowhere else but up in the sky. "You look like he ran a trunk over you. Let me share the burden."

He stares at her for a second, hesitant. What does he have to lose, anyways? Certainly nothing Jaemin hasn't already taken from him by armed robbery.

"I'm just… Bummed out because I like him so much," Jeno mumbles, feeling very small under the streetlights. He props his chin up on his knees, analyzing the quiet suburban life unfolding in front of his eyes. It's somewhat therapeutic. "I'm a father, Heejin. I want him like… Like…"

"Like a husband?" Heejin offers sympathetically.

He is not proud of the screech that leaves his throat when Heejin says it, or the ugly cough that bubbled up on his chest right after. Jeno is chronically awkward, but Heejin gets it; Heejin loves him for it. She pats his back with wide eyes, surprised at the suddenness of his reaction.

"Yes," Jeno coughs out, staring at his shoes to avoid embarrassing himself any further. Oh, to be a mess when someone all but says your name. "Like… A husband."

"Do you think he wants that?" she asks once he has calmed down, attentive and delicate with her words as she is.

"I don't know. I don't think so," he mutters, sighing. "I just like him so much and I don't think he knows. I don't think he has any idea."

Heejin hums, understanding, and unfolds her legs, also staring down at her feet. Jeno feels like they're both twenty four again, hunched over a pregnancy test with their hearts on their mouths, hands trembling. Time seems to be running backwards nowadays; it seems to be eating up these memories one by one, until there are none left. Until Jeno has no choice but to create new ones.

"You can't know that for sure," she tells him, voice soft and buttery under the moonlight. "I trust time will clear that up for you. You need to give him time, you know? It's important."

Time is the last thing Jeno has. Time he can't own or hold, time he can't do anything but watch as it slips through his fingers.

"Yeah," Jeno sighs, his back hurting from being hunched over his knees. "I just want loving me to be easy. Sometimes I feel like," he bites his lip, searching for words. "Like everyone has to make so much effort to even remotely like me. I wonder how many people need a break."

Heejin drags a hand down his back, gingerly caressing the skin through his shirt. It's a nice night to leave his heart at the doorstep, Jeno thinks. Maybe someone will help and take it to a better place.

"It's not easy to be in love." Heejin pats his shoulder. "And I have a feeling you know that already. What you can do is accept the challenge or back up and pretend nothing ever happened."

 _What you can do is accept the challenge or back up and pretend nothing ever happened_ is such a Heejin thing to say, he thinks. Jeno remembers her first words when they found out she was pregnant - _you either accept the challenge or you fuck off forever. It's your decision._

"Maybe you're right," Jeno answers, unfolding from himself to stare at her, straightening his column.

"I know I am," she smiles, offering him a hand as she stands up. Jeno allows her to hoist him up until he's standing, then watches as she wipes dust off of her skirt. "You go in. It's your time to make dinner tonight."

Weirdly enough, that settles it. They're okay again, as shiny as new; everything is the same. A lot has changed, but not the moon and not Heejin. That Jeno can cope with.

The bar downtown in question is dipped in blue and purple lights, and behaves as a much tamer ambient than Jeno thought it would be.

There's a low murmur around the place, tables slowly filling up with customers as the Friday afternoon sun drips down into an agitated evening, the sound of clinking glasses and excited chatter making Jeno's ears ring in anxiety. He's waiting by the entrance, heart on his feet and breath stuck somewhere behind his ears as he scans the place from outside, hands sweaty. People are dressed casually - a blessing for Jeno's white button up and blue jeans, because he wouldn't know what to do if he were to be underdressed. He thinks he saw a handful of women dressed in the likes of his own outfit nearing the counter, so that eases his nerves well enough for him to actually walk into the place, gulping down saliva through a violently beating heart.

A few stares turn to watch him as he makes his way to the counter, but no one approaches him. Jeno doesn't know what to do yet, mainly because this is the first time he's ever been in a place with so many people like him before, but he manages to grab a stool near the corner, away from the packed crowd forming around the small stage built over the dancefloor.

The bartender is a man about 1.8m tall, wearing a white tank top and dangling chains down his neck, his cracked nail polish a bright tone of bubblegum pink. Jeno watches as he pours shots into a drink, expertly so, the veins on his arms popping out with the effort needed to hold the large bottle of vodka. The place is nothing like he's ever seen before, in order that it trembles him from the inside to the outside, making Jeno wonder how could he even survive here without a guide or a map. He's about to muster up the courage to order a drink when the bartender approaches him, a piece of cloth wrapped around his thick neck.

"Hey, you Jeno?" he asks, his voice gravelly low and dipped into an accent he can't recognize.

Jeno blinks at him, completely lost, and nods. The man could snap him in half with just a flex of his muscle; it's hard not to be distracted.

"Got a bunch of drinks on the house," the bartender smiles, his beard making him look a lot older despite the fact that he's probably not even past thirty-five. "Boss wanted you to have a good time."

 _Boss?_ Jeno frowns mentally, looking around confused. Then it dawns him: _Jaemin._

"Oh," he says, nodding. "Do you know when he'll be here?"

The bartender looks at him weirdly. "What do you mean? He's already here," he points towards a table full of men around his age, Jaemin's figure standing right between two of them as he bats his eyelashes, collared shirt just a bit too short for it to be considered anything but a crop top.

Something about the scene bothers Jeno deep to his core, but it's out of self respect he chooses not to name it after jealousy. That would be far too pathetic, even to him; it doesn't matter. Jaemin can smile at whoever he wants, wink at whoever he wants, gingerly lean down to hear whoever he wants whisper with a teasing smile-

"Can you ask him to come over here?" Jeno blatantly asks, the bite of his voice going barely unchecked. He would be lying if he said it's easy to be him - not when Jaemin looks like he's about to sail away with the man in front of him, to never be seen again.

The bartender nods, walking inside what Jeno supposes is a kitchen and calling out someone, a slender boy quickly taking his place behind the counter as the man walks out, probably to get to Jaemin. The boy is about the same height as the other man, but his face is a lot more younger - he doesn't look like he belongs in this place, and maybe he doesn't. His hair is a gentle shade of dark brown, the ends bleached and dipped in baby blue, making him look a whole lot more childish than he would if he didn't have the dye job. Jeno wonders why Jaemin would have someone so young at the bar, but the boy looks just as confused and awkward as he is, which tells him that this is not his scene at all. He doesn't work with bartending, that's for sure.

 _Probably works at the kitchen,_ he thinks to himself. Jaemin did mention the extra money from selling out fries and burgers.

The bartender comes not longer after, Jaemin behind him with a grin that is so very usual by now. Jeno thinks he looks good, as he always does, but he can see there hasn't been any effort on it today; Jaemin's face is bare, and his outfit is completed by a pair of dark sweatpants, making the place a burn a whole lot hotter if Jeno were to be asked.

"Hi!" Jaemin grins wider, looking every bit like a proud owner. "I'm so glad you're here!"

At that, all jealousy is forgotten, and Jeno smiles back with all of his might. "I'm happy to be here too."

It's ridiculous how much adoration one can fit underneath such a thin layer of skin. Human beings should not thrive as much as they do; not when their bones are so soft and their blood runs so tender.

"I had to show a picture of you to the staff here so you could drink for free tonight," the man takes a seat on the stool beside Jeno's, shifting his entire attention to him as the bartender assumes his spot behind the counter, the boy previously standing there disappearing from sight. "Although now I see that that might've been stupid. Do you even drink?"

Jeno nods, leaning his elbows against the counter. Jaemin looks at him, head slightly leaning to the side, waiting for an answer. "I do," he clarifies. "Just not a lot or usually."

"Me neither," Jaemin smiles gently. He reaches a hand over to Jeno's collar, adjusting it slightly and getting all up in his face, ever so carefully making sure the piece of clothing isn't crinkly. "Except I don't ever drink. Your collar looks a little off, were you fighting the urge to wear a tie?"

And right when Jeno thinks he's getting better at being around him, his heart falls to his knees, pulsating alive and begging for a stake to sink through the bloody flesh. _I'll give you everything_ , the voice in his mind claims, its eyes watery and round; desperately wanting to be loved.

"Yeah," Jeno answers, pushing through his emotions, his smile dimming into the ghost of a smirk. "Thought it would be inappropriate."

"Don't worry about that," the other man lets his hands fall to Jeno's lap, sneakily laying them under his own. Jaemin's palms are warm and alive; praised be. "You can wear whatever you want here. I promise you."

And it seems to be true with how people are dressed in a wide variety of styles, unconditional to size, gender, settling, even to weather. This seems like the type of place 23 year old Jeno would've died to be in; and to himself, he notes that things would've been way easier had this existed in his life all along.

"Maybe next time?" he asks, grinning in a way that he sure thinks looks dorky.

Jaemin seems to buy it anyways, the sparkle in his eyes reflecting the lights from the other side of the establishment. He looks enchanting; radiating, even. Maybe it's the atmosphere, maybe it's the belonging, maybe it's the feeling of being surrounded by family - all he knows is that this Jaemin is not the one Jeno knows. There is no fight, no snarkiness, no smart mouth; it's just him, bare and alive and in his element. It's beautiful to see.

"How have you been?" the man changes subjects, fidgeting with Jeno's fingers. His eyelashes create shadows on his cheeks, and it's hard to concentrate with so much happening at the same time, but Jeno allows himself to relax anyways. Jaemin is here.

"I'm okay," Jeno smiles sheepishly. "Can't believe I'm up past ten and can't believe I'm not home right now, but I'm okay."

Jaemin chuckles, squeezing his hand. "Relax! You'll be home by twelve, I promise you. I can't stay open until much late today either."

"Why not?" he asks. The sound of the atmosphere gets louder as a group of people start off a chorus of 'happy birthday to you!', so Jeno has to repeat himself over their singing, this time louder: "WHY NOT?"

Ever the patient one, Jaemin waits for the singing to end completely to give him his answer, a small smile pulling on the corner of his lips at Jeno's irritation. His eyes are droopier than before, getting dangerously flirty as a switch seems to be activated in his head, fingers boldly interlocking with Jeno's.

"Because I'm taking you home, of course," Jaemin exclaims as if it's obvious. "Thought we could spend some time together, drive around a little bit. You know… Things."

"Things," Jeno repeats, disbelief all over his features. Still, Jaemin starts rolling one of his rings around his finger, and Jeno loses his train of thought. "Yeah, okay, fine. You're making me get home late for the second time in less than two weeks."

"I'm a bad influence, I think," the man gives him a Cheshire cat grin, and Jeno would've followed him into moving traffic in a heartbeat, but he doesn't need to know that. "But at least I'm good looking, right?"

"You are," he agrees easily, feeling like a lost puppy. "I don't know anyone here, though."

"Oh, but you do!" Jaemin tells him, letting his fingers slip through Jeno's engagement ring. He shivers. "Donghyuck is here. My friend who got arrested is, too."

Jeno scrunches up his nose, feeling Jaemin play with his engagement ring even more relentlessly, his hands no coinciding with his face as he continues to talk as if nothing is happening. Jeno follows it blindly. "Do I know him?"

"Hm, maybe, you do remember Huang Renjun, right?" the man asks, batting his lashes. When Jeno shakes his head, Jaemin brings his stool closer to his, sitting by the edge of the seat to be almost nose to nose with him. Too much; never enough. "Oh, that's a pity. We dated briefly after we graduated."

That sparks up his interest. "Oh?" he asks, the sound of his own voice knocking against his skull. Jaemin smiles at him, so close he could draw blood, but doesn't say anything else. For a second, he's just standing there, watching every contraction of Jeno's face in great entertainment. "I didn't know," Jeno adds.

Jaemin smacks his lips, a low laugh on his throat. "Yep! Kind of an on and off thing until recently, but not anymore."

"Why?" Jeno stares, feeling his insides flare up as Jaemin doesn't shy away from eye contact, slowly rolling his engagement ring out of his finger with a smile that doesn't seem to ever wear off.

It pulls him in, mostly - like shark to its prey.

"You know why," he shakes his head slightly, eyes carefully closing in on Jeno's face. Jaemin puts the ring back on, gently caressing the skin left behind as he does so, and it goes implied: _because of you._ This could classify as a hostage situation, Jeno thinks. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.

"Why are you saying that?" once again, Jeno asks, trying to get the most out of Jaemin's sudden confession. Like squeezing juice out of ripe fruit, he's trying his best to get the most possible before it's dried out, dead and cold for anyone to see.

"Just thought you should know." The man taps his wrist with his fingers, impatient.

Jeno disagrees. There are things that the less he knows about, the better. How is he supposed to move on with life knowing Jaemin ended an on and off relationship because of him? How is he supposed to pretend that knowing this does anything but reinforce his already existent wish of offering him everything he can possibly offer? It's not fair. The savior of desire is ignorance, and right now, Jaemin is torturously making him know about _everything_.

He doesn't know what to say next. His wish is to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, give Jaemin his arm and tell him to write his name on it, to mark it as his own, to finish what he started. Jeno doesn't do that, though; he likes to believe he's not that type of done for yet.

"Okay," he opts for answering him in a small voice, losing a bit of his religion in the process. Jaemin seems satisfied with himself, squeezing Jeno's hand in barely contained laughter. He finds it funny.

There is a particular type of pain in love that Jeno can't translate into words. It feels like trying to explain something incommunicable, in a constant loop of words that refuse to leave the back of his mouth, a bone crunching heaviness, but Jaemin - as a person, as a lover, as a friend, takes the edge off of it. Jeno would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy whatever it is that he does that gets him going from one high to another, considering Jaemin wears him out in all of his senses, until he has no choice but to be true, to be honest. Jaemin gets him vulnerable every time; Jeno doesn't resent it.

Faster on and they're sitting in a table near the improvised stage, the murmur louder now that Jeno is a part of it rather than watching from aside. Bar conversation is something he's good at, a consequence from his early twenties and his tendency to exaggerate on alcohol, which makes Jeno feel a whole lot more comfortable to ease himself into the conversation, Donghyuck's loud voice a trip down memory lane. Renjun, Jeno finds out, was a chinese student that lived a few floors above him on their dormitory, but ended up dropping out of college due to mental health complications - something they all slightly flinched at when he brought it up, a collective understanding of how dark your college years can be if you don't take care of yourself. These people are nice, Jeno thinks; it would be nice to be around them more often.

"And I'm just saying…" Renjun laughs loudly, slapping his hand on the table. Jeno watches him ever so carefully, Jaemin's words not leaving his mind - he tries to think of what they would've looked like together, what they had done, all the things Jeno wanted for himself that Renjun got first. "If I get bleach on my t-shirt, I'm gonna feel like an asshole."

"It's seriously no big deal!" Jaemin whines, words loud and fast as they get when he wants to win an argument. "Pink hair at thirty is a look. You _know_ that."

"What _I_ know is that your hair is going to fall all off," Donghyuck chimes in, resting his elbow on Jeno's shoulder like they've been best friends for years. He doesn't even remember what Donghyuck majored in, but the attention makes him feel as if he belongs here, so Jeno allows it. It's nice to not stick out like a sore thumb, even if he's sitting at a table of three lifelong friends. "And my hair fell off before so I can say that!"

"Your hair fell off because you had drugs for breakfast, lunch and dinner during that year," Jaemin exclaims, erupting laughter from the other two. Jeno laughs, too, but not as hard. "You _wish_ , you just wish my hair would fall off. You dream of a world where you're more attractive than me."

"Take it back!" Donghyuck stands up, a finger pointed in the man's direction though his smile is big enough to outshine the morning sun.

"Maybe he has a point," Jeno speaks up, staring at Jaemin through the corner of his eye. "Jaemin would look good with a buzzcut, but did you?"

That makes the entire table gasp, a low rumble of laughter on their throats. Jaemin reaches out a hand to rest on his thigh under the table, a quiet _good job_ that goes very much unnoticed as Jeno's cheeks burn a pleased red.

" _You_ take that back!" This is Jeno's turn of having Donghyuck's finger pointed at him, but Renjun forcefully sits him down through pulling at his jacket, an embarrassed glint sitting atop of his eyes.

He slaps Donghyuck's nape, reprimanding. "People are staring, Jesus Christ."

"But I wanted to hear his answer," Jaemin complains, his voice growing obnoxiously high as to make his point even more annoying.

"You're trying to get yourself a black eye, aren't you?" Renjun smirks, still holding Donghyuck by his nape as the boy playfully pretends to throw a punch at Jaemin from across the table. "You'd not be as pretty with one. Remember that."

 _So you think he's pretty?_ Jeno's mind bites back, but of course Renjun does. Everyone in this table, in this establishment does - perhaps even the entire neighborhood. It would be silly to think otherwise.

Jeno doesn't pride himself in being of the jealous type, but it's inevitable that it would come out sooner or later the more he starts to actually get to know Jaemin. He's the type of person anyone would want around, and it would be innocent of him to think no other man has ever wanted him when Jeno knows that desire is as unstoppable as the pouring rain.

"Jeno wouldn't let me get a black eye," the man sticks his tongue out at Renjun, squeezing Jeno's knee as he does so. Jaemin is made of signs. "It's always you two against me but I have the OG partner in crime with me today. You bitches," he makes a point out of shaking his finger in their direction. "Cannot compare neither compete. Do better."

"Big boy words coming from you," Donghyuck bites back, taking his can of soda to his lips. Jeno has been warned before that they don't drink when he's around to show support for his journey to sobriety. Jaemin had proudly said Donghyuck has been sober for a year now, and Jeno found himself amazed - must've taken a lot of strength. "I don't think you ever needed a prince charming to come to your rescue, but since Mr. Moneybags showed up it's all you're going on about? Your game is _weak._ "

"Don't call him that!" Jaemin defends his honor by letting his palm find Jeno's wrist, protectively pulling him closer. "He's _not_ Mr. Moneybags."

Jeno fights the urge to smile, but it's unrefrainable like the tide. Renjun snickers: "That's what you're choosing to focus on?"

"Of course," the man answers, offended. "You guys are meaaaaan."

It's not like he needs Jaemin to defend his honor, because Jeno doesn't care about banter half as much as the other three do, but it's nice to know that he cares, that Jeno lives in his mind in some way or another. And anyways - at his age, being called Mr. Moneybags is not bad at all.

"You're the meanest!" Donghyuck gasps in disbelief, turning around in shock to stare at an unbothered Renjun. "Can you believe this dude? He's just being nice because Jeno is here."

"I thought I was Mr. Moneybags," Jeno adds to the conversation, a teasing smile on his lips. Jaemin caresses his wrist with the tip of his thumb.

"Stay out of it," Renjun points his chin at him, playful. It makes Jeno wonder if it _really_ is a lighthearted act, but that's over analyzing too much even for him. He forces a laugh.

They play fight for the next half an hour, the discussion growing heated as Jaemin starts to give up on trying to portray himself as nice. Not that it's a problem - Jeno finds it attractive when he's mean, which has been proved a countless times before if the way he flirts means anything at all. It ends soon enough, though, because then a drag performer gets up on the stage and suddenly the entire place is shunned quiet in respect, the singer's voice grazing each ear in the place by faith through grace. It feels religious, Jeno thinks, because no one dares to interrupt her - it must feel nice. He can't imagine what it's like to speak up and have a room fall silent in respect.

The crowd gets heated up as the songs start to get louder and dancey, a few whistles and supportive screams from here and there. It's a whole new experience to Jeno, but the lights don't blind him as he thought they would, and Jaemin's hand doesn't leave him for one second, gently caressing his knuckles over the table. Renjun and Donghyuck throw glances at their intertwined hands with great entertainment, not even bothering to be discreet, but Jaemin doesn't say a thing, focusing on smiling at the stage and bopping his head to the rhythm.

And then it ends, and Jaemin starts to make an effort in closing down the bar, kindly urging the few people left to leave as he explains that his workers' shifts had also ended. The bar is different once it's empty, the "open" sign turned towards the inside of the establishment for once; it's silent, cozy, the tiredness of the night hitting Jeno where he's at his softest. Jaemin makes small talk with the drag performer as he cleans the tables, his smile nothing short of gorgeous as Jeno watches from his place near the counter. He's just trying his best at swiping a piece of cloth over it, cleaning out grease stains and beer circles left behind by customers that seemed to be here just a second ago. Without the talking, it's like a home - everyone is working on something.

Jeno is still scrubbing a particularly specific stain from the counter as the drag performer approaches him, sitting by one of the stools. Her wig is a luxurious tone of orange, its length a little above the shoulders, and she looks exactly like what a kid's show would look like were it to come alive. To himself, Jeno notes that Eric would love her; bright colors are his favorite.

"And who are you, boytoy?" she asks, a thin smile around her teeth as she brings a bottle of water to her lips, makeup a bit smudged after her performance. "Never seen you around before. And I'm sure I'd hear about it if someone with your face was a regular on this bar."

Jeno gives her a tight lipped smile, hesitantly pulling away from his cleaning. Jaemin insisted for him to leave it alone, but he likes to feel useful; besides, it's a good excuse for not talking. "I'm Jeno," he introduces himself, putting the cloth down. "This is my first time to ever come here."

"Why?" the performer asks again, putting down her bottle of water. Her eyelashes are inexplicably long and thick - Jeno wonders if her eyelids don't get tired. "Are you a sugar daddy or something?"

"I don't know what that is," he smiles, hoping for it to be enough to prove his innocence. "I'm… Dating Jaemin. I've been, I mean. For the past month."

"Oh?" her eyes light up in glee, a honest smile pushing on the corner of her lips. "That's so good to hear. Are you going on strong?"

At that, Jeno also shares a genuine grin. "Yeah, going on strong."

"You know, when I noticed him and Renjun were not going out together anymore I got scared," she starts, resting a hand on her chest. Jeno's interest perks up at the mention of Renjun. "But it seems that it was because of you, then? Good for you, Jeno. You've lucked out with him."

Jeno averts his eyes to Jaemin; he's on the other side of the room, cleaning out tables and humming to the beat of a song he doesn't seem to know the lyrics for. Jeno understands why he is so dear to these people - the place accommodated at least 30 tables, but Jaemin is cleaning them all on his own, a proud smile untamed on his face.

"I really did," he says, mind running off in circles at the thought of Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

"Have you perhaps… Met the boy yet?"

That gets his attention, coming down from the infatuation induced daydream and centering himself behind the counter once again. "Which boy?" Jeno asks, still slightly paying attention to Jaemin's activity across the room.

"You know," the performer frowns. "The boy. When you meet him, you know it's serious."

"Which boy?" he repeats himself, growing even more confused.

"The boy!" She exclaims. Her voice is a bit rough from the singing, but Jeno hears her loud and clear; he just doesn't understand her words, which seems to upset her. "The boy, Jeno. Jaemin's boy," she repeats it, this time with more intonation as if _that_ would make Jeno understand it. "The son!"

"Jaemin has a _son_?" Jeno asks in disbelief. That doesn't seem like something Jaemin could just leave out of conversation, something he would purposefully hide, so by the time of his last word Jeno is convinced that the performer is just pulling a joke on him. An unfunny one, but a joke still. "That's not true."

She seems offended. "Yes, it is." Her eyes search for something behind Jeno's back, moving right to the door that leads to the tiny kitchen. "The boy. The one with the blue hair."

To say he is horrified is an understatement. "You're lying."

The boy in question looks eighteen, from what Jeno remembers. If he really was Jaemin's son, Jaemin would've had to get someone pregnant at the tender age of twelve, and Jeno vaguely remembers that, by that age, he was enrolled in an all-boys middle school, deep into the countryside. It seems like such an obvious lie Jeno starts to question his knowledge - it couldn't be true, right?

"I'm not lying," she smacks her lips, cocky. "Ask anyone. Ask him. If you walk right into that kitchen and ask him if Jaemin is his dad, he's going to say yes."

And, based on the way she says it alone, Jeno wants to. He wants to walk into the kitchen and ask him, because he wants to see her face fall once the boy says it's a lie, but he's not even near that type of brave - Jeno would sooner rot in this spot than to do that.

"I'm not doing that," he frowns. "Because it's a lie."

"It's not, young man, and if it was, it wouldn't come from me," at this point they're both irritated, and Jeno wonders how is it possible that every person he meets is, in one way or another, prone to argue with him at first glance; maybe he's too stubborn. "Maybe it's not serious so Jaemin didn't tell you. But it's not a lie."

That hits him on his Achilles' heel, the words _maybe it's not serious_ piercing through his heart. It can't be not serious when Jeno is in fact very serious about it, and Jaemin knows so; he wouldn't do that. He's not that person.

"But…" Jeno starts, dumbfounded. "Jaemin is too young."

"I've said too much, it seems," she tells him, a pretty frown on drawn out eyebrows. "I should go."

Jeno wants to tell her that she can't do that, that she can't just drop something like this on him then go away, but it's not her responsibility. She has nothing to do with his relationship with Jaemin; no one but the two of them does.

He forces a crooked smile, thoughts racing on. "You should."

And she does.

Jeno tries to think of a reason why Jaemin wouldn't have told him, and while that list is immense, nothing seems to quite fit in this scenario; mainly because Jeno himself doesn't quite believe it either. There is something so obviously insane about it that makes it questionably difficult to deny - why would she say anything of the sort if she didn't have the truth to back her up? It would just make her seem crazy otherwise, and that's what Jeno chooses to believe in as he watches Jaemin wipe the sweat off of his forehead, a grin adorning his face as he makes his way to the counter.

"I think we can leave now," he smiles, resting his elbows against the counter. Distantly, and even then, Jeno finds him so beautiful - it's hard to not be fooled by it.

"Really?" Jeno asks, making a point out of looking down to the shiny clean dishes he had just washed out of pure nervousness.

"Really, I'll just solve something in the kitchen and we go," Jaemin explains through a madly big grin. Jeno wonders if that's an excuse to check in on his _son,_ but the idea of having so much happen behind his back is nauseating enough for him to push it away. Jeno is sure he has a good explanation - he has to.

Jaemin walks into the kitchen, and Jeno resists the unshakable urge of going in right after. He reasons himself out of it by remembering that, if it is true, the son wouldn't have to watch what comes next; it is not his fault, and Jeno couldn't bring himself to ruin a child's day like so just because he feels upset over something that can be explained. He also wouldn't like to cause a scene, because that's hardly a good move after someone tells you they have children - Jeno would be hurting too many other people were he to confront Jaemin about it now.

Which doesn't mean he won't do it later, because he will. But either way, living in the future is not going to make it come faster or easier, so Jeno tries not to fixate over it too much as they leave, Jaemin's car protecting them from the late night shivering cold as it pulls off on the quiet Seoul streets, pitch black darkness wherever they go. The nightlife in Jaemin's neighborhood is quite agitated, but the street lights end soon enough as they move to the more conservative parts of the city, family homes looking empty in the name of their dark windows and locked doors. Jeno watches as it all passes, the wind cutting through his barriers and getting all up in his personal space.

This is a beautiful city, with beautiful people in it, doing beautiful things. Jeno hasn't lived in Seoul for all his life, but if he did, he wouldn't be anything less than grateful for it; he fell in love here, had his children here, grew roots here. This is the place his soul will rest on once time is right, despite all the heartbreaks and let downs proportioned by these busy streets - this is how Jeno knows that the world may take on his flesh, but Seoul will get his bones. It feels masochistic to hold so much care for a place that tore him apart from the top of his head to the tip of his feet, though Jeno has learned the hard way that not everything hurtful means to be. A lot of the things he lived through were a result of his own self, and Seoul doesn't have anything to do with his poor decisions; she was rarely ever the cause as much as she was the background, the scenario, the indifference that allowed things to go on.

"It's insane, isn't it?" Jaemin breaks the silence as they come to a stop sign, letting his elbow rest against the car's open window. He glances at Jeno for one, two, three seconds before he looks away, then continues: "This place when it's empty."

"Yeah," Jeno agrees, looking out of the window and staring right into an empty bus stop, the paint job way past needing a redo. "You'd think there'd be more crazy people walking around on the street at night."

At that, the man laughs. "That's what we're here for."

Jeno wants to blindly believe in everything he's ever said when Jaemin smiles at him like that - and yet.

"How romantic," he smiles back, not handling himself to actually stare into Jaemin's face. Jeno can't be taken out by the fact that Jaemin is whatever dreams are made of; there's too much at stake.

"Only the best for you," comes from his lips, a charming tone to his words. They sizzle in purple lights like a mana spell, written across Jeno's skin as if they had a life of their own, and maybe they do - he believes so. Maybe that's what people have been going on about for all this time; the intermittent belief that love is just as magical as the quiet rain, the morning sun, the evening wind. That love is God made and everything that comes from it is alike to Eve's apple.

They drive and drive in the outstanding silence, Jaemin's engine murmuring a prayer between them. Or maybe it's just meaningless sound, and everything to Jeno is a prayer - maybe he just wants thing to be so life changing, so sensitive and magical, that he starts imagining them differently from what they really are. These things could happen; it's surprisingly hard to be someone who doesn't daydreams nowadays. How could a person life in such a world without having a bit of delusion rubbed into them, Jeno thinks. How can one handle reality for what it is without the addictive belief that tomorrow is better than today?

Jaemin stops driving nearing the Han river, the long chunks of green grass dipped into the hues of blue and black under the moonlight. There are no stars, but Jeno didn't expect to see them - pollution is a reality stronger than romanticism will ever be, even if it's fun to fantasize about a sky so beautiful you forget everything you've ever been told. They walk out of the car with nothing but impending vulnerability between them, a quiet understanding that the night sky can get anyone to talk about anything. Jeno doesn't know a lot about trust, but he does believe that it comes as natural as eating or sleeping; there is no greater sign of it than being able to close your eyes at night and know the person beside you would never mean you any harm. Well, at least no more harm than you mean to yourself.

And then Jeno is laying his sorry body over prickly green grass, which should not make life any more forgiving or merciful than it already is, but it does. The sky feels open and endless, night breeze slipping down his body like it's a wet slope, and Jeno knows that this, too, will end soon. Not just this moment but the grass and the city and the sky and the moon - everything he knows will soon be dust, the world included. The sun is going to eat it whole mercilessly, and every living human being knows this; even better than they know love, sympathy, community. The only knowledge that ties all ends together: this, too, will end soon.

"You're thoughtful today," Jaemin comments, laying beside him. He's so peaceful, slowly coming to form the words in his mouth, and Jeno believes it with his whole chest when he says that Jaemin might be the only living thing able to outlast the sun. "What's on your mind?"

"Just… Things," he explains, deeply aware of how comically vague he's being. "You know… Thoughts, and feelings. And sensations."

Jaemin hums, gently closing his eyes. His eyelashes fan over his face, _how to cope with always being on the edge_ _of losing you?_ "Sounds like something I know of, yes."

"Yeah." Jeno knows himself too well to believe that he's any more eloquent than the leaves of a tree, and Jaemin gets it. Jaemin understands what goes implied; he always does.

And maybe this is love as it is, but Jeno needs it to transform and evolve. He needs to be able to do more, reach far outer, speak his mind more often - there has to be room for infatuation to change, because change is the natural course of life, and anything aside of it softens to surely rot.

He wills the words to come out of his mouth, but they don't - they hold him by his throat, fill him up with adrenaline only to let him down, and Jeno is tired of it. He is. Living in the empty space between unspoken words is getting so old; _here goes nothing_ , he thinks.

"Why didn't you tell me you have a son?" he asks, turning on his side to watch Jaemin's face contorting in strangeness, his eyes shooting open.

"What?" Jaemin says, voice growing higher.

Jeno doesn't let it phase him, face stoic as he reaches out a hand to card through Jaemin's hair. It's soft and full of tangles - like a lie. "Why didn't you tell me you have a son?" He repeats himself.

The man blinks, confused both by his words and actions. "Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter." Jeno shakes his head, eyes boldly moving from the grass to Jaemin's face. "Why?"

It's a good time to talk about something like this, Jeno believes, because there is no fronting from Jaemin's side - he just frowns, avoiding his stare, and it feels like a new person Jeno has never met before; it feels much more human.

It wouldn't be them if things weren't just a little bit fucked up, is all.

"I don't…" He sighs, then sits up. Jeno doesn't move, which forces Jaemin to look down at him as he explains: "I don't introduce the people I date to him."

"Until it's serious?" Jeno patiently asks, trying to keep himself steady. It's hard, though - his eyes insist on going up to the sky.

"No," Jaemin shakes his head. "I rarely ever do. Even if it's serious."

That makes him frown. "Why? And… How? But _why?_ "

"Because," the man frowns back at him. "And what do you mean by how?"

"You know what I mean," Jeno averts his glance, feeling his cheeks heat up. It's such a stupid question to make once you say it out loud. "How did you… Um… Have him?"

Jaemin blinks again, this time in nonchalance. "He's adopted."

"Oh," at that, his mind starts to clear up by possibility. That sounds more realistic, then; Jeno feels a little less clueless. "And you didn't tell me why?"

The man bites his bottom lip, gently resting his palms on his own knees, but doesn't say anything for a moment. Jeno nudges him with his finger, to show that he's waiting, and Jaemin speaks up: "Because Jisung doesn't need to get attached to someone I don't know if is going to be around for a long time."

"You don't think we'll be together for a long time?" Jeno asks in disbelief, feeling his insides burn in sadness. It's such a cliché to believe that a heart can break ever so easily as the pronouncing of a few words, but Jeno gets it. There's no explication to it; it just feels like a punch in the gut.

If Jaemin is weirded out by Jeno saying they're together, he doesn't show it. "That's not what I said," he exclaims, pulling his knees to his chest. "But I can't know for sure, Jeno."

"What can't you know for sure?" by the time the words are out, Jeno starts to feel bad about the underlying anger on his voice, but there's nothing else he can do.

"I don't know!" the man exclaims, tone matching his in loudness and annoyance. "You left once, Jeno. How can I know you won't leave again? For fuck's sake, I've had casual dates with people and they didn't even know what I did for a living. What makes you think me having a son is something I'll tell just about anyone?"

 _Just about anyone_ stings a little more than Jeno thought it would, but it's the implication that he's as special as anyone that makes his face fall. "Do you think of me as just anyone?"

Jaemin's face softens. "I don't mean that," his tone drops considerably, losing its defensive edge. "I just meant that… How can I _know,_ Jeno? I love Jisung too much to let him near any type of home instability. It has always been me and him, always, and you showing up out of nowhere is not going to change that right away. You're a father, you understand that."

"I know," he gulps down his anger. What's left is just sadness. "But I wish you wouldn't have hidden such an important part of your life from me."

The man's face falls. He reaches out to hold Jeno's hand, and he allows him to. "I know," he sighs sadly. "And I'll never be sorry enough, Jeno, but do you understand that all I want is someone who can treat him like family? He's been through too much for me to just let anyone into our home. Do you understand that?"

And it's funny, because Jeno has been thinking about family ever since he first saw Jaemin, but that idea was too far away from him by then. He believed it to be delusional, a fairytale, but it seems to him that this is what the man had also wanted for all this time. How rare is it when the stars align to form a mutual wish to grow roots together?

"I understand," Jeno nods carefully, squeezing Jaemin's hand. "You can trust me, Jaemin. I promise you I don't plan on going anywhere."

"I know." The man nods back, looking fixedly to a point behind Jeno's shoulder, trying not to seem as vulnerable as he feels.

He smiles, pulling on Jaemin's jacket sleeve to call for his attention. "I mean it, you know? You just say the word and I'll be anywhere you want me to be."

Jaemin offers him a grin, this time a real one, his stare resting where it belongs. "I won't say it."

"You won't have to. I know you too well," Jeno teases, sitting up to be face to face with him again.

"You do." The man is not intimidated by his stare in the slightest, and he proves it so by getting even closer.

"So much I sometimes think I was made for you," he continues, letting his words drip from his tongue slowly, seeing Jaemin's face heat up in embarrassment.

"Don't say that." He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes casted down as to not stare at Jeno, and it's incredibly funny to see the tables turning. He is so unlikely shy today - Jeno loves it

"Make me." Jeno gently grabs his wrist, pulling it down to show Jaemin's face in its fullness, and he's so desperately close one could think there's no more to life than the man in front of him.

"I will."

And he does. Jaemin lays a hand on his chest, pulling him down once again; Jeno’s back hits the grass with a quiet impact, the man’s figure hovering over his as he kneels beside his laid down figure, bare and open like a prey who just found itself at the mercy of its predator. The night sky meets his eyes as if moths to a flame, inevitably attracting Jeno’s line of vision while Jaemin stares at him from upside down, his silver necklace dangling in front of his face as though as it could slice his throat in half were him to merely wish it. Jeno’s lips form an ‘o’ shape as easily as they’d form a smile, falling into their usual pliableness when Jaemin smiles, two sets of teeth alike to the great Megalodon shark from times when Jeno didn’t even exist, telling stories of prey Jeno never got the chance to be. Jaemin’s hand rests on his chest, palm pressed over his heart to lock him into place. “Your little heart is about to explode,” the man comments, eyes turning hazy in mockery. “You shouldn’t ask me to shut you up if it’s so easy.”

Jaemin is larger than the world and the corner of his lips stretch around his teeth like the coast of the sea, which serves as proof that Jeno’s life will, too, be ended by his bite once the time is right and merciful. There is no space for pretending when it fits all too well, and Jeno is not frightened by it - Jaemin will take the world with him when he leaves this planet, and it’s only an honor that Jeno should be taken with him. He’d sooner die than bury him, anyways, in order that it would be the cruelest of ideals if the Lord don’t take them together to the merciless void. That might say something about the two of them; Jaemin smiles, and Jeno would rather decompose into the grass than to stay for a second in a world without him.

Still, he takes the difficult way out. “You enjoy it being easy,” he accuses, a smug smirk growing on his features.

“Perhaps.” He lets his tongue slide through his top set of teeth, eyes sliding down Jeno’s neck as if he’d swallow him whole. “You’re just so…” Jaemin’s voice wanders through the night air, getting lost in translation. “I could just eat you up and you’d allow me.”

“Try your luck,” Jeno teases, cupping the man’s neck and feeling the cold of his necklace graze his fingers. “Take a bite.”

“Shut up,” Jaemin demands, lowly. His voice comes out scratchy; rough. “Don’t write checks your ass can’t cash.”

And he’s right - Jeno wouldn’t be able to take it if Jaemin gave him what he so desperately asks for, but that's love in its essence. He'll ask too much, do too much, beg too much, but at the end of the day what stays is the ability to tell that, despite everything, Jeno does need to be treated carefully, delicately. The fact that Jaemin knows it is the tenderest act of them all; it says he'll hold back for however long it's necessary. Isn't consent the most attractive characteristic in a man?

"I shouldn't," he smiles, a bit of the night induced high getting to him as his thoughts spins around in his head, trapped in colors and sensations like tie-dye shirts. "Yet I will."

Jaemin smiles too, lowering himself just enough to press a kiss to Jeno's cheek, his necklace now coming in contact with the man's skin. "Yet you will, you stubborn little shit."

Despite everything else that could've possibly went wrong, Jeno still believes he'd rather decompose and let the earth take him before he ever even considers leaving this place. There is no control left - the pedal's down, his eyes are glued shut, the buzzing of the road behind him high on his ears. Jaemin is about to drive his body into his like a car crash, and he'll allow it to happen - his hand has long left the steering wheel, in order that there is no past now, only the fast coming big crash that will finally set him off the road for good. Jeno can barely wait for it.

The next time he sees Jaemin, Jeno and Heejin had already started packing things up from their suburban home. The weather in Seoul has come to its chilly maximum, making Mina and Eric huddle closer for warmth the moment they get home from school, and Jeno has been brewing coffee manually now - Heejin says it's better for him, and he believes her. All in all, things haven't changed much; it's a net of little changes, rather, that comes together to create the big picture of his life. It's in the small manifestations of positive change that Jeno's hope hides, folded quietly between selfies of Jaemin and Jisung on his phone's storage and late night searches for apartments to rent near his workplace; it's not much yet, but it's something.

He hasn't met Jisung in person yet, but Jaemin allowed them to talk through the phone once, mainly to introduce Jeno to him for once and for all. He quickly came to realize that Jisung is a nice kid - he's eighteen, still finishing his senior year of highschool due to losing a year to mental health complications, and looking for a part time job that doesn't consist of washing dishes at his father's establishment. His voice is shy, soft, and Jaemin told him between giggles that Jisung is incredibly clumsy, which is why they've decided it would be better if he stayed away from the kitchen after an incident where one of his shirts got caught up on fire.

Jaemin has been more open too, in order that Jeno feels more secure in their relationship. They've been growing familiar to each other's thoughts and behaviors, and Jeno already knows Jaemin's family by heart, the same way Jaemin knows his; Heejin included. Maybe that explains why Jeno allowed him to come and help pack his things, but nothing could've prepared him for seeing Jaemin walk through his suburban home's door, his outfit toned down to its maximum despite the fact that there's no one else but Jeno here. It shows that he cares, though - that he worries.

"I thought your kids would be here," he pouts, dropping the two bags he was holding to his feet. "I got them a bunch of stuff! Jisung even helped me choose toys and all. I can't believe you wouldn't tell me they're not home!"

Jeno laughs, dashing through the living room to greet him with a hug. "They'll be home by six. Heejin usually takes them out to play after school."

"Hmpf," Jaemin huffs, engulfing Jeno in a tighter hug by wrapping his arms around his neck, the fabric of his jacket cold due to the frowny weather. "How are you? I feel like it's been years since we've last seen each other in person."

"It's been a week at best," his voice comes out muffled by Jaemin's jacket, but Jeno doesn't resent it. He hadn't realized how much he needed a hug to warm up until he got the sudden urge to wrap Jaemin up in his arms.

What a blessing it is to have skin that can come in touch with Jaemin's skin - another one of life's great pleasures. "Too long," the man murmurs, letting his face sink into the junction between Jeno's neck and shoulder, looking for warmth. His face is chilly from being outside, and a shiver runs up Jeno's neck almost instantly, but the embrace is too comfortable to be interrupted by something so trivial as coldness. "A week is too long."

"I agree," Jeno pats the small of his back, mildly caressing the skin right after as if he could patch up every bruise that's ever belonged to this body. He can't do that yet, but he wishes he could. "Come on into the kitchen," he announces, reluctantly pulling away. Jaemin's hand immediately finds his, interlocking their fingers together, and Jeno swears he could just burst in this second. "I made coffee."

"Oooh," Jaemin unwraps his scarf easily, single handedly letting go of his shoes in the process. "I love coffee."

He chuckles, guiding him through the mess of his living room to the kitchen, only letting go of his hand when Jaemin settles himself in a chair behind the kitchen island. He's looking around wide eyed, and comments under his breath while Jeno pours two cups of coffee: "Wow, this place is huge."

That makes Jeno look down to his feet, a light blush on his face. "The rent is insane in this neighborhood. We got a good deal because my coworker owns the place."

"He must be so rich," Jaemin shakes his head in shock, trying to fathom how much money a person has to have to own a house like this. Jeno settles beside him around the counter, nudging Jaemin's cup of coffee in his direction. The man takes it with a smile, lifting it up to his face. "Thank you. It's freezing outside."

"The news said it would warm up later next week," he makes conversation, staring as Jaemin's huddled form hunches over the cup of coffee, the diffused vapor from the beverage making his nose turn slightly pink. "We could do something."

Jaemin smiles softly. "Yeah. For your birthday."

"I didn't think you'd remember my birthday," Jeno shyly comments, pouring sugar on his coffee while avoiding eye contact. "To be honest."

"Of course I do," he tells him, not even bothering to put anything on his coffee as he sips on it mindlessly. Jeno flinches at that - what type of psychopath takes their coffee black and bitter? "I'm baking you a cake."

"You really don't have to." He reaches out a hand to pat Jaemin's arm. The man just stares at him carefully, a glint in his orbs that tells Jeno his image is safe inside his eyes.

"But I want to," he says, and his word is final; there's no way Jeno could convince him otherwise. "I'm gonna ask Jisung for help, too. He's been asking about you."

"Has he?" Jeno asks, thinking about their short conversation. He feared it would be too awkward, but Jisung likes pretty much everything Jeno liked when he was his age; it's not hard to talk to him at all. "You should tell him I managed to get into the rhythm of shooting games again. Tell him to watch out for me."

Jaemin throws his head back in laughter. "You are an adult man with a job and he's eighteen and unemployed. _You're_ the one that should be watching out for his skills."

"I have better training than he'll ever get!" Jeno gasps, offended.

"Whatever you say," the man shakes his head, sipping from his coffee once again.

Bickering with Jaemin is easy, but the truth is that he's too beautiful to ever be gotten angry with. Jeno knows this better than anyone else - he may be good looking, but Jaemin is forever out of his league; he's a dream wearing sneakers, nobody compares. The man in front of him is truly as pretty as human beings come, so there's nothing else to do except don't let it take Jeno out to the point of stupidity.

"I love your shirt," he says without even registering it.

Jaemin smiles. All is well in the world.

They start to finally organize and pack up around late afternoon, but Jeno doesn't mind the wait - he's been too busy showing Jaemin every corner of the house, excitedly making a tour of the place he's lived in for the last five years. It's weird to think of how much unhappiness there's been inside of him throughout all this time, coexisting with the joy of raising two beautiful children, but there nonetheless. Jeno thinks it's a pat on his back to acknowledge his willingness to love this place despite its rough times; he feels a little more stronger, resilient. It's almost a pity to leave it.

Almost.

Jaemin folds his clothes into different boxes as Jeno searches through his wardrobe and bathroom for things that have been long lost. There's not a lot he owns in this house, mainly because the past years have been all about thinking this place was temporary as a coping mechanism, and so Jeno never truly grew roots. There are tons of boxes he hasn't touched since he first moved in, simply because Jeno hasn't dared to organize them; touching them would've meant it was real, and that would've meant he was a tangible, responsible adult. It's funny, now, to look back at it - he was as much of an adult as he was when he was eighteen, which is not at all. Even now, at the verge of turning thirty one, Jeno doesn't know if there's even an "adult mindset" to base himself on; he's just the same him he's been born into, minus some changes.

Either way, the things one can find while cleaning out their bedroom are astonishingly random. Jeno found pieces of dolls Eric had probably lost, necklaces from when he was in highschool, even an old polaroid camera covered in dust - all of these objects that slipped out of his reality among the lines of time, simply because someone up above thought they should and that was enough for Jeno to not see them ever again. He's kneeling to move the boxes under his bed when Jaemin yelps, a loud crashing sound making Jeno lift his head up, alarmed.

"I'm so sorry!" is the first thing the man says, his white turtleneck now having a huge wine stain near his shoulder. Not only that, but the glass Jaemin was drinking from is on the ground next to him, cut up in little sharp pieces caused by the collision. "I'm seriously so sorry, oh my God."

Jeno walks over to him, quietly nudging the mess near where Jaemin was sat on the other side of the bed with his foot, clothes folded and piled up next to him. "Are you hurt?" he asks, flinching at the thought of someone stepping on the broken glass. He pushes it to the side with his feet, extending a hand that Jaemin gladly takes, pulling him to stand up.

"No," he answers, eyes looking crestfallen as he looks at his stained top through the mirror. "Fuck, I look ridiculous. I'm sorry for your glass."

"It's no big deal," Jeno waves his hands around, nonchalant. They don't even use those glasses - they rarely drank here. "But your shirt… Give it to me and I'll put it in the washing machine. You can get one of mine on the pile."

Jaemin pouts, still looking unrelentingly sorry. He hesitantly nods, but doesn't move, which forces Jeno to reach out and take one of his sweaters from the piles and piles of clothes on his bed. It's a fuzzy blue one from a few years ago, and he remembers getting it for Christmas from his older sister; it's a nice, warm sweater, and it should do its job well enough to protect Jaemin from the cold. He extends it to the man, who shyly takes it and walks into the bathroom to change, coming back five minutes later wearing Jeno's sweater and holding his stained shirt on his hands, looking down at it with a frown.

And the thing is: Jaemin doesn't usually wear a lot of color, but he should. The baby blue compliments his all black clothing, and it makes him look impossibly younger, like a highschool sweetheart Jeno hasn't forgotten about. There's also something incredibly interesting in the concept of having Jaemin wear his clothes, but it doesn't quite belong to the possessive side of love - rather, it's like Jaemin and him have fused into one big blob of thoughts and feelings, and so everything Jeno owns is also his. When he comes closer, Jaemin doesn't smell like just Jaemin anymore, but neither does he smell like Jeno; he smells like love, like family, like the animalistic ideal of belonging together. It's Jeno's favorite scent in the world.

"It looks good on you," he comments softly, resuming to his activity of trying and getting to organize the things under his bed.

The man scratches his nape, smiling. "Thank you. I liked it too." At that, Jeno wants to hold him closer again, but doesn't say anything else. There's work to do that can't be helped, no matter how beautiful Jaemin is.

Fast forward and they're sprawled on the carpet, Jeno's sweater brushing against his own skin as Jaemin cuddles closer and closer, his cold feet trapped between Jeno's calves. It reminds him of when Eric had trouble sleeping at night, back when he was just a little younger than one year old and couldn't tell them what was bothering him yet; Jeno would sit up on the ground him with, back pressed to his cradle, and hold him tight against his chest while softly murmuring about his day, the heaviness of exhaustion against his nape. During the first years of parenthood, Eric was Jeno's only late night confidant - he'd lay on his belly and listen while Jeno rambled on about his day, about being so tired he couldn't walk, about how he wasn't sure of where he would get the money to get them into school once time comes, even though Eric couldn't understand anything that was said. In that sense, Jeno was talking to walls; but it was nice nonetheless.

"I used to lay with my baby here," Jeno tells him, grazing his fingers against Jaemin's back. "Right here. Just like this."

Jaemin hums, the vibration of his voice echoing across Jeno's body. "I did that to Jisung too. When he first came home."

"How was it?" he asks, pressing his lips to Jaemin's temple. "Your journey with Jisung. How was it?"

He feels Jaemin nuzzling his nose against his shoulder. "Have I ever told you why I adopted Jisung?"

Jeno shakes his head.

"He was thirteen when he came into the restaurant I worked in asking for a job," his eyes are still closed, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. "I didn't give it to him, of course. But I asked him what he was doing in that part of the city."

"And what was that?" he asks, resisting the urge to let his fingers meet all of Jaemin's features by delicately contorning them.

"He'd gotten kicked out from home," the man tells him, voice so soft it could disintegrate in front of Jeno's eyes. "You might imagine why. He was living in an orphanage a street or two down from the bar, and he needed a job to get out of there as soon as possible. He thought no one would ever adopt a child as old as he was."

"But you did." Jeno rests his full palm on his back, slowly allowing it to go up and down, hoping it would comfort and ease Jaemin's troubled heart.

"But I did, yeah." And he doesn't sound proud, or as if he thought of himself as benevolent for it - instead, there's a deep sadness between them that Jeno _understands_. No one can really put a finger on it until they have kids, but it's the unshakable sense that you could've done better and you could've done it sooner.

Silence greets them like a mother, but maybe it's a father, after all; they both know too well.

"You know," Jaemin speaks up again, his face hidden and pressed down on Jeno's chest. It feels so very vulnerable to watch him from this angle, but Jaemin allows him to; he trusts Jeno. "Sometimes… I wish I could just hold him so tight and close to me that he'll get inside my chest and never leave."

Maybe love is everything you can surely embrace, and nothing but. "Isn't that the highest form of love, though?" he answers, understanding it far more than he'd like to. "I mean… To be loved like you love Jisung. Isn't that what proves you've lived a worthy life?"

At that, the man lifts his body up, hovering over Jeno's figure just as he did in the park a few nights ago. Jaemin stares down at him with a certain glint in his eyes, and Jeno can't tell if it's what he said or the atmosphere they're in, but the man looks as if he just hung the moon on the sky - as if Jeno just painted the very first sunset. They stare at each other for a few seconds, and Jeno is about to ask what's wrong when Jaemin comes closer and closer, pressing his lips to his as if they'd fall apart and crumble were they not together.

And it's weird, because he never thought he'd be here, and he wishes he could tell the Jeno from months ago that he'd be kissing Jaemin while laying on his bedroom's floor, and that it would feel like the first time he ever kissed someone all over again. There's something so sweet about finally getting what you want after so much suffering over it, Jeno can't barely control himself and admit that this, too, has to end sometime. He'd like for the kiss to last for so long his heart is quite ready to stop beating already, but realizes soon enough that that would mean Jaemin would have to come dangerously close to killing him, but it's not like he hasn't before. Jaemin doesn't know that, but what is being apart from him if not a murder attempt?

Kisses turn deeper, hands turn stronger, and Jeno doesn't ever want to let go, but there are things you can't be helped with. Jaemin holds him so close it's like he's really trying to fuse Jeno with his own chest, and it's not as if he wouldn't let him - it's not as if Jeno wouldn't walk inside his chest willingly, to never be found again.

"We have to keep packing," Jeno murmurs against Jaemin's lips, opening his eyes to see what's probably the most gracious thing he's ever seen. The man's eyelids are closed, and his lashes hover over the pliant skin of his cheek as he lets himself get grounded on Jeno's lips, looking as if he couldn't bear to stay away, as if this was his sole purpose on this Earth, the only thing he's ever done before.

Which is not true, but love is hardly ever anything but delusion. This Jeno can cope with.

"Yeah?" he answers, but his voice too soft and he looks too comfortable, so Jeno allows him to do as he pleases. He'd give Jaemin anything, anyways.

Jeno believes that, once death is met upon, there should be a screening of everything that's been counted up until the time of obituary. That would include the amount of hugs received, gifts given, meetings appointed, kisses started - just a simple demarcation to file up life and find a way to make it better. Right now, he thinks, his kissing count would be going up insanely quickly, and he has Jaemin to thank for that; how blessed it is to find someone who would kiss you into oblivion. Jeno can't believe he thought, for a second, that he wouldn't miss kissing during all these years. What a fool he was, especially now with the simmering belief that he'd quite literally disappear if it weren't for Jaemin's hands on his hips.

It could've been a lifetime laying on his carpet, but Jeno doubts it was more than an hour and a half, as life usually makes short pleasures last for much longer than short agonies. He's grown too comfortable, too familiar; Jaemin is now marked as his in his head, and the years apart seem like a distant past he doesn't want to remember about anymore. That's the thing, he guesses: they belong together now. Anyone could see - Jeno didn't need a kiss to seal it, but they did quite help.

Heejin is home around six, and despite the fact that Jaemin was extremely self conscious to be around her, they all managed to sit down for dinner together, and Jeno experienced their friendship blooming in front of his eyes. It's only fitting that they're friends - both of them are as good as human beings come, and the height of their kindness is unknown. Jeno wouldn't know what to do were he to live his life without either of them, and so life comfortably settles in a gentle sunset, Mina's hand on his wrist as he cuts her meat into tiny little pieces, the future forgiving and fast coming.

"You're so silly," Eric comments as Jaemin reaches out to wipe Jeno's face from across the table, instinctively. "Dad's grown! He doesn't need help."

The man smiles, settling back into his seat near Eric to turn around and stare at his little form. "I am silly," he agrees. "Can I wipe your face, then? Since you're not grown yet."

The boy thinks about it for a second, hesitantly looking at Heejin as if he needed her approval to know who to trust. When she nods in silence, the kid mirrors the same nod to Jaemin, who reaches down to ever so kindly wipe the tomato stain nearing his nose.

Behind Jaemin's back, Heejin calls for his attention, sending Jeno a thumbs up. He cocks his head to the side, leaning his elbows against the table, and she shrugs, quietly mouthing " _I like him_ ".

Jeno smiles, lets his gaze find Jaemin's figure, then finds Heejin again. " _I do too,"_ he mouths.

And it goes implied that he does it much more than she does.

But the thing about Jeno is that he's still learning about how to be a grownup who makes his own meals, pays his own bills, and doesn't cry in dark rooms when no one else is around. There is no formula to get there, and it's never quite as you imagined it was; nothing you know applies on growing up, because growing up in itself means letting go of the comfort that comes from knowing anything at all. Nothing can ever be promised in this type of situation - except maybe for learning, which you do whether you enjoy it or not.

It's upsetting that he needed about half a decade to understand that, but life can only be understood backwards. Jeno knows that looking back at his past self is something he can only do now, but he's sure that future him is also looking back on this exact moment, wishing this Jeno knew what he now knows. The constant nature of life is that, anyways - looking back and desperately wishing you could reach out to the you from the past and tell them things can and will get better, even if you're not quite sure of it yourself yet.

Even then… Jeno can finally say that all other versions of him would be proud to know of every decision that lead him to sit on this table, surrounded by four of his most important reasons to keep on growing.

Isn't that enough?

**Author's Note:**

> to the people who helped me through this fic: i would walk into busy traffic for you. i would do far more. xavi, zero, luni, isa - i would leave my suburban life in the blink of an eye for all of you.  
> come have armed combat with me on twitter (@jaemkitty) if you'd like to. i endorse every ideal in this fic except for when jeno said black coffee is for psychopaths. bye bye!


End file.
